Gunslinger Girl: Ultima Resistenza
by Alex McM
Summary: When an Italian Special Forces unit loses contact the Social Welfare Agency is sent in to investigate. But when the mission goes horribly wrong the girls and their handlers lose sight of their orders and take matter into their own hands.
1. Conseguenze

_**Gunslinger Girl: Ultima Resistenza**_

I only finished watching the anime a week ago but I was totally hooked on this series and just had to write a Gunslinger Girl story. I hope you enjoy it. Please review and any tips or advice is most welcome. Anyway, let's get on with the story!

_**1: Conseguenze**_

The great city of Rome would have been silent, were it not for the intermittent roar of gunfire that tore through the delicate serenity of the deceptively peaceful city. The city seemed asleep, its citizens blissfully unaware of the battle raging around them. The explosions and screams were nothing more than an abstract lullaby, rocking the townspeople back to sleep. A thick black plume of smoke rose from between two towering church pillars, blotting out the early morning sun. A helicopter manoeuvred around it and a smartly dressed man peered down at the scene below.

Through his binoculars he could spot several armed men rushing out from a car which had just moments ago slammed straight into the fence of the church. The car had been chewed up by bullets and the rear left tyre had been blown off completely. The group of armed citizens sprinted across the road and away from the wreck, shouting frantically to one another. They disappeared down the alley drenched in the shadows of the surrounding buildings.

From his position Jean could see them clearly. He spoke into the small headset clipped to the side of his head and gave his orders. "Good work. The car is destroyed, but the targets have moved down the alley. They are moving towards the residential district. Cut them off before they drag innocent people into this."

"Understood." Came the crackled reply on the other end of the line.

Jean looked through the binoculars again and watched as a young schoolgirl with auburn hair swept past the car and down the alley. She carried a violin case with her, clutching it close to her chest as she ran. A man in a suit followed close behind.

As the helicopter swung around Jean could see the next few blocks and spotted the armed men. They were running down the street, sending wild, un-aimed bursts of gunfire behind them in an effort to halt their pursuers. This only brought a smile to his face.

"Hilshire cut off their escape route now. Surround them and take them down."

The armed men approached a white van. Its doors were swung open wide and in a blur of movement one of the men was taken down, thrown into the gutter and pinned down. The others swarmed around their assailant but a bright muzzle flash followed almost instantly. In the next instant three of the men were dead, their bodies ripped apart by a close-range shotgun blast. The other three were already running for their lives. The young blonde girl who had burst out the van was now running after them. The brunette schoolgirl trailed close behind.

"Alright, there are only three of them left. The targets are splitting up. Stop pursuit and regroup. The other teams will despatch them." Jean watched as the one at the head of the group ran straight ahead. He made it about thirty metres before his head erupted in a crimson mist. He collapsed in the road and lay still.

Jean smiled ever so slightly. "The runner headed north has been neutralised. Good work Rico. Marco, have Angelica take care of the one headed west."

"Alright."

The target skirted down another alley only to be torn apart by a quick burst of gunfire. He fell back and convulsed for a moment before passing over into death.

The final target headed east. He ran into a small hostel, one that had been previously bought out for just this occasion. Jean smirked at his own strategy and yelled his final command into his headset. "He's in the hostel, just as planned. Ferro, keep the back entrance secure and make sure he doesn't try and escape. Jose, have Henrietta take the front entrance."

"Got it." Jose snapped attentively. The young agent slid up behind the schoolgirl and pointed across the street to the hostel. "Henrietta. You know what to do. Take him down and be careful."

"Yes sir." Henrietta murmured, her voice soft, submissive. She ran up to the front entrance and knocked on the door, standing perfectly still as she waited. She stared dead ahead, deep into the old flaking timber door. The door opened just enough for the target to look out and as soon as he set his sights on the girl he seemed to tense up. He studied her up and down for a moment before addressing her.

"What do you want?" He demanded, his voice cracking. Sweat poured down his face uncontrollably.

Henrietta smiled sweetly and fiddled with the latch of her violin case. "Well, you see...I was wondering if I could come inside. I heard gunshots nearby." She bowed her head and frowned. "I'm scared..."

The man grappled with the decision and at last allowed the girl entry into the abandoned building. "Fine. Get in here and be quiet!" He dragged her inside and then slammed the door shut. By the time he was done locking the door he felt the cold bite of steel against his back. He glanced over his shoulder and found the girl had him at gunpoint. It had to be a dream. Little girls don't carry guns! They aren't soldiers! But then again his dead comrades might see it differently.

"This is crazy! What are you doing?" He cried, desperate to gain mercy from his sweet little executioner.

Henrietta smiled the smile of an innocent child. "I'm doing what I was told."

The target had no time to be struck by her words, for he was struck with a bullet first. The bullet passed up through his spine, rendering him paralysed. He dropped like a bag of stones, grunting like a wild animal.

"This world...Is..."

Henrietta lodged a bullet in his brain and his final words were left unfinished. The bloodied schoolgirl headed outside and skipped over to Jose and the crowd of waiting agents. They gazed down at her blood-spattered uniform and nodded to one another. The mission was complete.

Jose patted the young girl on the shoulder. "Well done Henrietta. I'm proud of you." Henrietta's cheeks went bright red and she giggled sheepishly. She reached out to hold his hand but fell short when she noticed the slick crimson fluid soaking into her delicate fingers. She closed them into a fist and placed her hands by her side, standing to attention like an obedient little soldier.

The agents filed into their convoy of vehicles and drove off, leaving the cleaners to take care of the bodies. As crazy as it sounds...It was just a regular day of work at the Social Welfare Agency.

* * *

><p>The Social Welfare Society runs under the guise of a charity organisation, helping sick and wounded children. That's a half truth. The Agency does aid a select few of these poor children, but it is not for charity...It is for the Italian government.<p>

The Social Welfare Agency is secretly a counter-terrorist unit, dealing with the many threats that face the nation and its people. The government's dirty work is their forte and ever since their conception they have been a vital part of protecting the country, however one section of the agency has been quite controversial.

Section 2, an anti-terrorism force like Section 1 but with a twisted little secret that has been hidden from the public eye ever since it's inception. There is one little fact that the public never heard about the sick children aided by the Agency. The children selected by the Agency are taken to a special hospital where state-of-the-art cybernetic implants are equipped to them. What follows is a process known as 'conditioning', commonly known as brainwashing. The children are trained to become the ultimate assassins, baby-faced killing machines. Each girl (or cyborg, depending on which way you look at it) is paired with a handler and together they are named a fratello, Italian for sibling.

Each fratello is its own unit and gradually more and more fratello have been recruited. Now there are a handful of them and when a fratello is sent out on a mission victory is all but assured. They look like any ordinary brother and sister, or father and daughter. Villains anticipate police or soldiers, not an innocent little girl. They never see it coming and that is why Section 2 is so brutally efficient. Regardless of the moral issues Section 2 stands strong. The young assassins face their fate with a beaming smile and loyally obey their handlers.

* * *

><p>Back at the headquarters, each fratello sat around a large white table. Before them the chief of Section 2, Lorenzo, stood with his arms crossed. He appeared angry, distressed. Lorenzo was a man just over the other side of middle age. His short cropped hair was greying and receding. His skin was growing slack and wrinkles creased his forehead. He adjusted his spectacles and coughed to gain everyone's attention.<p>

"Welcome back everyone. I trust the mission was a success?"

Jean nodded and handed a folder to the chief. "All targets were neutralised and there were no civilian witnesses. The cleaners are still working but the majority of the job is done by now." Jean was a cold young man with short blonde hair. Despite being a handler he was far from kind. Compliments rarely ever escaped him and he was quick to punish his cyborg whenever she angered him. Still, his efficiency granted him a high position and he was often seen as a leader among the fratello.

Jose, his brother was quite the opposite, desperate to keep Henrietta happy. He saw her not as a cyborg but as a human girl. He and his brother would have looked like twins were it not for Jose's dark brown hair. Despite their differences they were still brothers and with no more family to confide in they remained close.

The chief read through the report and then turned his attention to a whiteboard on the wall behind him. "Very well, I'm sure you've noticed the rise in Padania recruits lately. We have been discovering nests and hideouts all over the country and the situation is getting worse." The chief wrote a name on the board in large capital letters. "Christiano," He read aloud, "Was supposed to have been assassinated three months ago. As you know the raid on his mansion was a failure. Christiano was wounded but he managed to escape with the aid of two unidentified people. Although we were able to shoot them down and their car crashed into the river, we were unable to find his body. The others were discovered after a lengthy search but Christiano was no-where to be found."

"But that doesn't mean he's alive." Marco interrupted. "Angelica mowed them down. There's no way he could have survived that!"

The chief closed his eyes. "We have received reports that he was spotted in a hospital in Venice not long ago. He is wheelchair bound and will never walk again but he is not dead. By the time we had people dispatched there he was gone. We searched the entire city but there was no trace of him. It would seem he is trying to escape."

Triela, a cyborg with beautiful long blonde hair suddenly became stressed by the meeting. Painful memories of her defeat at Christiano's mansion were still fresh in her mind. Not only had she not stopped Christiano, but she only just managed to defeat Pinocchio, a specially trained human assassin and her arch nemesis. He could have killed her; in fact he would have if the car key he lodged deep in her eye had been just a little bit longer. The cyborgs are able to survive horrific injuries, but the brain is their weak spot. Just like zombies, destroying the brain is the only way to kill them. The rest of their bodies are just machinery and synthetic muscle tissue and flesh.

Triela cursed inwardly and brought her attention back to the chief.

"We have an idea of where he is headed, but it is not certain...However we lost word with a military unit stationed near the border of Austria. Last we heard from them the Five Republics were hiding out nearby but last week we lost all contact with them. There is a large base there and for them to lose contact is rather odd. We have no option but to investigate since Padania is involved."

"You don't think they've been killed do you?" Jose asked fearfully.

The chief bowed his head. "I _hope _that is what happened."

Jean nodded. "It's a remote location and a bombing on their location would not have been impossible. We've seen first-hand that Padania has some highly capable members. They may have been able to pull it off. But even so, if they are capable of defeating such a military force we could be in terrible danger."

"Indeed..." Lorenzo murmured sombrely. "They weren't regular soldiers. They were from Col Moschin."

"Special Forces?" Jose gasped.

"Yes. If they weren't killed in a bombing then it may mean that they have joined the Five Republics. It's not the first time the military has betrayed us. If so then we have a highly trained army against us. I suspect Christiano is headed there for protection and quite possibly flee to Austria. We cannot let Padania branch into neighbouring nations, nor can we tolerate the army siding with terrorists."

Jean leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "So, you want us to infiltrate the base and find Christiano, as well as investigate the lost contact with the Col Moschin?"

Lorenzo nodded silently. "Correct. I want this to go smoothly without any casualties on our side. We will perform surveillance of the area before raiding the camp. I want everyone to be especially careful. We shall prepare to leave tomorrow. That is all ladies and gentlemen. Thank you."

The group filed out and went their separate ways, the cyborgs heading to their dorms, the agents to their own rooms across the other side of the building. Henrietta however tagged alongside her handler, saying nothing, merely appreciating Jose's company regardless of the silence that stretched half-way down the hall.

"What's wrong Henrietta?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing...It's just..." She sighed deeply. "Nothing. Never mind."

Jose stopped and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Henrietta, something is bothering you, then don't hesitate to tell me. I'm here to help you. Besides, you know you can trust me?" Henrietta blushed and looked away. Jose chuckled as he patted her on the head. "Don't be embarrassed. If you don't want to tell me that's fine. Whenever you are ready, I'll be listening."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's what big brothers do." The two shared a laugh before resuming their walk. "So, this next mission is going to be a big one. Are you ready for it?"

Henrietta nodded.

"That's good. You'll need to be on your toes for this mission. I couldn't bear to see you hurt. You know Hilshire was terribly upset with Triella being in hospital for so long."

Henrietta giggled innocently. "He bought her a lot of stuffed bears when she was released. Now she has twelve of them."

Jose stopped suddenly and clicked his fingers. "Oh, that reminds me. I bought you a present for all your hard work recently. Come with me." He led her to his room and hastily unlocked the door. He moved to his desk where a small gift box lay nestled between stacks of papers. He handed it to her and held his hands behind his back, eagerly watching his little partner as she meticulously undid the wrapping paper with such care to not tear it.

Henrietta's eyes lit up like stars and her smile was priceless. It brought familiar warmth to Jose's heart, warmth he used to feel around his beloved sister long ago. "Do you like it?"

"Is this...Us?" She whispered in disbelief.

"I found an artist in the streets of Milan who did portraits. I showed him a photo of us together and he painted this. Isn't it beautiful?"

Henrietta was silent for a moment, her eyes brimming with tears. In the next instant she lunged towards him and hugged him. "Thank you so much Jose." the two remained in each others arms for a while, Henrietta finally feeling the embrace of the man she adored. Jose buried the sorrow of his lost sister, in the back of his mind pretending Henrietta was the same cheery young girl who was tragically taken from him. Although neither would admit it, they needed each other.

* * *

><p><em>Cos Moschin - <em>Also known as the 9th Parachute Assault Regiment. They are basically the Italian equivallent of the SAS.

Please review.


	2. Distrutto

_**2: Distrutto**_

The dorm was quiet. Night had fallen and most of the agents were retiring to their rooms to tie up the loose ends of the days work and get their well-deserved rest. The lights in the hall were turned off and Henrietta skipped back to her room veiled in darkness. A childish giggle escaped her and no amount of conditioning could suppress it.

She hugged the portrait to her chest as if it were her child and she danced down the corridors, singing a tune to herself, though in the relative silence of the dorms she could be heard clearly. Every now and then a door would open and a weary head would poke out to catch sight of the young girl skipping away, lost in her own joy. One such person was Amadeo, a cynical intelligence officer for Section 2. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. "A little ballerina huh?" He bowed his head and added, "A ballerina with a gun..."

Henrietta passed the open courtyard and smiled as she was bathed in the light reflected off the full moon. The stars only reminded her of Jose and she felt her cheeks burn. Thankfully no-one was around to see her blush and she was able to move on without embarrassing herself.

The short walk back to her room was a pleasant one and she continued to hum the song she had heard during Hillshire's last class. It had been composed by one of the great classical composers, but she could not recall it. All she could remember was the powerful joy she felt when she heard it. It paled in comparison the joy she felt around her handler but it was still delightful.

She approached the door to her room and took a deep breath. She pushed it open and leapt into the room. "Rico, you'll never guess what-" She stopped herself when she realised the room was bare. Rico was not there. She laughed at her own excitement and strolled over to the window. In the light she noticed the blood-stains still soaked into her uniform. She frowned and set the portrait down on Rico's bed for a moment while she got undressed.

The smell of blood was strong, but she was conditioned enough to ignore the odour as if it were as natural as that of flowers in bloom. She changed into something clean and folded up the bloodied uniform. She placed it on the nightstand and sat in Rico's bed, gazing longingly at the beautiful portrait. It was a marvellously realistic portrayal of them in Sicily, standing on the balcony of Jose's family house overlooking the seaside port far below. Jose had an arm draped over her shoulder and Henrietta blushed from the thought.

She sighed and sat back, leaning against the wall. She waited for Rico to come back, but the door never opened. It seemed Rico was away for something important and probably wouldn't be back until much later. Henrietta left the portrait there on the bed and took up her laundry. Since she had nothing else to do she decided to get it sorted now, besides, tomorrow would be a busy day and she would probably forget. She ducked out and headed to the laundry room.

The halls were even quieter now. None of the lights were on and most of the agents and cyborgs were asleep. Henrietta tread carefully this time. She found Triela in the laundry room, sorting through a load which had come out of the dryer. She looked up to Henrietta as the younger cyborg entered and smiled.

"Oh, hello Henrietta. I didn't think anyone else was awake at this hour."

Henrietta looked off into space and sighed. "I couldn't sleep. All I can think about is Jose."

Triela cocked her head. "You two seem pretty close."

Henrietta nodded. "He's so wonderful to me. He got a portrait painted of us while we were in Sicily. It looks amazing. I'll show it to you tomorrow."

"Sure," Triela yawned, "But right now I'm exhausted. I've been working non-stop since I was released from the hospital."

Henrietta waved to her as she wandered out of the room. "Good night Triela."

"You too." She murmured.

The delighted young girl put her clothes in the bland white machine and left it to its own devices for she too was feeling the weariness of a long day finally getting to her. She strolled back to her room and found the lights on, she could even hear a voice coming from inside.

_Oh, Rico's back. I must show her the painting._

* * *

><p>Moment's earlier Rico emerged from Jean's office. He had been drilling her about the importance of the coming mission and taking the time to teach her everything she would need to know about the Col Moschin, Padania and even some tips to help her shooting. The lesson had dragged on for a while but boredom seldom set in, especially with a girl like Rico. Every second of every day was like a blessing to her. Just the ability to sit upright in a chair was a wondrous miracle.<p>

But still, her body was growing listless and she knew it was about time to rest. Even machines need to power off once in a while. She expected Henrietta to be sitting up waiting for her but the room was vacant when she entered. The lights were off but she didn't care. She didn't need them on if she was going to sleep.

Rico kicked off her shoes and collapsed down onto her bed. Her eyes narrowed when she heard a distinctive 'crash' within the room. She tried to roll off the bed and into a crouch but a wave of blinding pain ran through her for a fraction of a second and her concentration faltered. Even if it was only for the blink of an eye, she could still feel pain.

She scanned the room nervously and then turned back to her bed which seemed darker for some reason. She switched on the light and then she saw it.

Blood was soaking into the sheets and amidst the red patch was broken glass. Rico frowned in confusion and approached it. She lifted up the sheet and found a broken wooden frame and inside that a torn canvas. She turned it over and stared into Henrietta's smiling face.

"Henrietta?" Rico studied the painting and noticed a small message behind a cracked piece of frame. Scrawled in black pen someone had written: 'Dear Henrietta, thanks for being such a good little sister.' Written after that was the name of her handler, Jose.

Rico placed a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Uh oh."

"Rico?" The door opened and Henrietta poked her head in and smiled. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to show you something."

Rico looked around, for once feeling pain but only due to anxiety. "Oh really...What is it?"

"Jose gave me a present tonight! You would like it as well. It's a painting," Henrietta explained innocently.

Rico stood in front of the mangled mess that had become of the portrait in question. "Ah, well...That was nice of him but...Uh...I'm tired. Can I see it tomorrow?" The lies hurt her as well. She would never have thought that something other than bullets could make her feel any slight semblance of pain. She put her hands behind her back and carried the portrait to her pillow. She placed it underneath and then stepped away casually.

"Don't worry, it will only take a second," Henrietta crossed the room and gently shoved her room-mate aside. "I'm pretty sure I left it on your bed," She mumbled as she ducked down to search. Her entire body tensed up at the sight of blood and she traced her eyes along the mattress to the fractured piece of timber jutting out from under the pillow.

The sound that escaped her was terribly human. It was a cry of absolute sadness, as if her heart had been shattered into a million pieces. The tortured squeal rang out across the dorm and the sound of pounding footsteps swept in from outside. In the very same instant tears flowed in graceful waterfalls down her soft features. Henrietta dragged the painting out from under the pillow and stared at it. The canvas had been torn so that now there was a rift between her and Jose. A shard of glass had pierced her painted chest and it very much felt the same in reality.

A flood of alert agents entered the room, some with guns drawn. Even the other cyborgs appeared on full alert. Henrietta took no notice of them. She looked up from the portrait to the remorseful young girl beside her.

"You...The painting...Jose...I..." Words failed her and for a moment she just sniffed loudly. Then, she snapped. Henrietta grabbed Rico by the throat and shoved her to the floor. Tears still flowed from her eyes but her teeth were clenched in a furious scowl. "How could you? Why? Why?"

Rico gagged and tried to wheeze out a feeble apology but the words came out as strangled coughs and nothing more.

The other cyborgs swooped down upon the two girls and Henrietta was dragged away from her and restrained while Rico was assisted as she clambered to her feet. Both girls were sobbing and neither could remain standing. Almost in unison they fell back down to the floor where they curled up into balls and wept like the little girls that they were.

Triela helped Rico up again and led her out of the room. "Come on, why don't you spend the night in my room. Henrietta needs to cool down." She glanced back to the weeping mess on the floor. Just moment's ago she had been so happy, so full of life and now she was like this...What could have set her off like that?

Jean stepped aside to let them go and then turned to several waiting agents. "Go find Jose. Bring him here immediately. Get Henrietta a glass of water. Go!" The agents rushed off leaving Jean alone with the cyborg. He never understood why Jose treated her as a human girl. She was nothing but a machine, a machine that needed to be fixed.

"Why?" Henrietta wailed.

Jean ignored it and peered out into the hall. His brother was running up the hall ahead of his escorts. He almost tripped as he raced up towards the tiny room. He caught himself in the doorway and panted heavily. "What happened?" He wheezed.

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "We don't know. We heard screams and found Rico on the floor with Henrietta's hands around her throat. It seems you perfect little girl has some problems Jose. I advise that you have them fixed before we set out. I'll leave the rest to you." Jean strolled off and waved to the agents waiting for orders. "Dismissed." He groaned, just before uttering a yawn.

When they were gone Jose closed the door and approached the girl. He found the portrait strewn across the floor in pieces and something clicked in his mind. He remembered the kaleidoscope incident...

"Henrietta, would you care to tell me what happened?" He asked as calmly as he could. Henrietta's eyes lit up for a moment but in the end she shook her head and averted her gaze. Jose rolled his eyes and sat down next to her, rubbing the back of her head gently. "Are you sure?" He was met with another shake of the head and he sighed. "Is it about the portrait?" He knew the answer already, but it still had to be asked.

Henrietta hesitated to respond and bowed her head after a moment's contemplation. "Are you mad at me?" There was genuine sadness in her voice and it tore him apart to hear such things. Jose leaned against her and cradled her like a child, like he had with his sister before he joined the military police.

"No, I am not mad...I'm worried." Jose glanced down at her and smiled. "I'm here to help you. If you don't tell me what is wrong, I cannot help."

Henrietta hugged him, her hands gripping him tight, afraid of letting him go. Jose patted her back and whispered in her ear, "Will you tell me what happened?"

She responded almost instantly. "Rico...She...She broke it..." She sobbed, pausing to wipe her eyes and sniff halfway through.

"Was it an accident?"

"I...Don't know..."

Jose chuckled softly. "Well I don't think Rico would damage something so precious to you on purpose. I bet it was just an accident."

"But-"

"We have a big mission in a few days. Now isn't the time to be getting upset over such silly things."

"But the painting..."

Jose ruffled her hair. "A painting can be replaced. It is your friends that are most important. You should be nicer to Rico; she is your friend isn't she?"

Henrietta said nothing. Jose decided to let it slide and made to leave, but he felt something dagging him back. He looked down upon Henrietta whose eyes were glistening like stars. Tears still rolled down her cheeks and her body was trembling. She held his sleeve with a grip no man could break.

"Please? Don't go." The urgency in her voice was heart-breaking. Even if he had tried, it would have been impossible to deny the poor girl such a simple wish. He sat down beside her and immediately she hugged him close.

"Henrietta..." He was going to ask her to go to bed, but she was already asleep, her head nestled snugly against his chest. Jose smiled and pulled a blanket around himself and the poor girl in his arms. He sat there for some time, just watching her shoulders sag slowly with each breath, her sweet expression of angelic serenity. He felt her heartbeat...Yes, a heartbeat. No matter how many microchips and machinery they place inside of her she would always be a little girl...

That weak little heartbeat...Something so simple, yet a reminder of humanity...Machines don't have hearts, they don't feel. Their thoughts are controlled by their programming, not emotion. As remarkable as she was with her expert marksmanship, her resistance to physical pain and her unwavering loyalty to the people who shortened her life...Throughout it all Henrietta was still just a little girl...A normal girl.


	3. Tensione

_**3: Tensione**_

Henrietta was woken by the sigh of the breeze wafting through the open window. As she craned her neck towards the breeze the burning light of the sun blinded her. She turned away and looked up into the face of her handler, Jose. She noticed the way her held her and blushed. She didn't know whether it was intentional or not, but he was hugging her. Either way, she could not care, she was happy...Jose was always nice to her, but she still yearned for more.

She often passed it off as selfishness, but now she understood why. She was in love. Others had pointed it out for her before but she always dismissed it with a shy laugh. But in the end they were right.

Jose looked so calm when he was asleep. She giggled beside herself and nestled her head into his chest. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep; enjoying the rare company she got to spend with her beloved handler.

Jose awoke later, finding Henrietta trying to make a pillow out of his shoulder. He glanced down dazedly, her form blurred from his tired mind. When he could see her clearly he observed her embarrassed smile as she tried to explain what she was doing, stuttering frantically and mashing words together out of anxiety.

"It's alright. Did you sleep well?"

Henrietta nodded. "Of course I did. You were here to protect me."

Jose chuckled at that. It was to be expected of an infatuated child. He was well aware that Henrietta was more responsive to him than other cyborgs were to their handlers. However he was still unsure how exactly she felt about him or what to do about it. All he knew was that Henrietta was not one to be bought out by presents. She enjoyed his company more than anything else. It could have been she was afraid of being alone, ever since her family was murdered before her very eyes, but he wasn't sure.

Despite being machines programmed to be unquestioning killing machines, they were far more complicated than a regular girl. Any other Italian girl wouldn't be as complicated to work out. Their lives weren't as difficult as the Section 2 girls. It was as if they were a completely different species, however all of them still liked teddy bears...A thought that brought a smile to Jose's face. It was the little things like that that made him happy. It made him feel less guilty about robbing the girls of their normal lives and bringing them into affairs that even most adults are unaware of. Seeing Triela with her room lined with stuffed bears or Henrietta fussing over a ribbon in her hair...It made them human.

"Jose?" Henrietta whispered.

Her timid little voice startled him out of his trance and he stared at her is shock as if she were a firecracker that had just gone off. He tried to speak but the words that came out were a mess of mumbled nonsense.

"Are you alright, you look..." Henrietta hesitated, her jaw hanging open, yet mute. She looked down at her feet and shook her head. "No, it's nothing."

The two spent a while in silence merely enjoying being near each other. Henrietta was right. Jose was distressed. He needed to have a word with the chief as soon as possible, but today he had to go to the training grounds and make sure that the little girl under his care would be ready for the upcoming mission. He quietly instructed her to get ready while he waited outside her room. He could hear a cupboard door squealing on old hinges and the slam of drawers. What followed was the loud metallic click of a gun being loaded. It was a noise he had come to grow used to in the military police but recently every time he heard that noise it gave him a slight chill. He was becoming more and more disgusted by the horrible things these girls were made to do and every mission now he questioned whether this was right. Sure, protecting the nation was a vital role but is the cruelty to these kids worth it?

Jose shook his head and banged his head on the wall in frustration. It seemed that this world was starting to dig its hooks in and was dragging him down. That only unsettled him more. He really wanted to see the chief, but it would have to wait.

* * *

><p>The drive to the training grounds was quiet. A lot of the time their trips were relatively silent but this time it began to reach a level of awkwardness that even Henrietta picked up on. Through the rear-view mirror Jose saw the discomfort in her expression and in a desperate attempt to break the silence he asked her, "So, will you apologise to Rico today?"<p>

Henrietta's expressions turned sour and she looked out the window, refusing to answer. Her silent treatment made Jose feel uneasy. He decided to change the subject. "This mission will be a big one. I'll have to get you a reward if all goes well. Any ideas?"

Henrietta looked up at him with the kind-hearted smile he was hoping to see. Her cheeks were turning pink and she started to look away, embarrassed.

"Don't worry. I'll buy anything, there's no need to be embarrassed."

"Well...I..." She paused, considering whether to admit it or not. Jose parked the car and turned to her with an expectant look in his eyes. She blushed intensely this time and looked down at the violin case on her lap. "I...I want to go to Sicily again..."

"Sicily huh? Very well."

Henrietta smiled in thanks and hopped out of the car. She waited patiently while Jose unloaded several cases from the back of his car and then they wandered over to the firing range.

Marco and Angelica were there already. Angelica took shots at targets on moving rails while Marco did some target practice with a service pistol. They both greeted the newcomers but there was little conversation between them. Both fratello understood how important this mission was and they needed to train.

After two hours of target practice Henrietta and Jose moved on to the test course, a large stone labyrinth filled with targets. It was the same as those used in the military and police and just the same it had innocents mixed in to test the awareness of the trainees.

Rico was putting together CZ-75 machine pistol but stopped the instant she saw Henrietta. Jean was unloading a box of ammunition beside her and he too stopped, both staring at the others approaching them.

Jose was appalled when he saw the thick black choke bruises on Rico's neck. He needn't ask what happened for he knew it himself, but it still terrified him just how monstrous Henrietta could become when angered.

"Hello Rico, Jean." Jose waved to them and they did the same. Henrietta pretended not to notice them.

"So, everything has calmed down?" Jean asked, straight-forward as ever.

"Yes, I'm sure it was jut a spur of the moment occurrence, nothing more." Jose explained. "Right Henrietta." He got no response from her. Instead she set down her violin case and took out the FN P90 concealed within. She loaded a fresh clip and stood to attention by her handler, watching Rico finish assembling her own weapon.

Rico frowned at her unresponsive comrade. She wasn't used to being ignored, at least not after joining the Social Welfare Organisation. "So..." She muttered. "Are we still friends?" She looked hopeful.

Henrietta glared at her for a few seconds and then ran off into the test course. Rico looked utterly betrayed and Jose placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Do not let it worry you. Henrietta is just upset. That painting was special to her."

"I'm sorry. I-"

"You need not apologise. I understand it was an accident. Henrietta is just pre-occupied. She has lots of things going on and she just lost her tempter. I bet by the time you two are in the helicopters you will be best friends again."

"Really?" Rico asked, her face lighting up again.

Jose grinned. "Of course."

Rico nodded and entered the course.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked simply. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "I can tell something is on your mind."

Jose sighed heavily and sat down on the bench, moving aside a few ammunition boxes in the process. "I have a very bad feeling about this mission."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "You think Padania are up to something?"

"No, no," Jean shook his head, "I don't think the cyborgs are ready yet. We should hold off on the deployment for a few days at least."

"Why?"

"You've seen first-hand is not in the right frame of mind for a battle situation. We can't force them into a mission when they are clearly not ready."

"Nonsense!" Jean scoffed. "Whenever Rico disobeys I just teach her a lesson and she is back to being my lapdog in the blink of an eye."

"Teach her a lesson? You don't mean..." Jose felt sick.

"They are impervious to pain brother. Besides, they do not care. A bullet barely makes them bat an eyelid, so I see no problem with-"

"You can't just hit them because they disobey you!" Jose roared. "They are little girls not toys!"

"You fool. Henrietta is merely acting out because you have gone soft on her. None of the other cyborgs have attacked another and do you know why, because they are treated as they are; tools! If you treat a dog like a human then it will think it is able to do whatever it wants. Just like your precious little doll."

"How dare you!" Jose snarled. "How dare you call Henrietta a tool? I felt her heart beat for Christ's sake! I could hear her breathe. I can see the emotion in her eyes. No matter how much technology advances you can never give a mere tool anything like that. Henrietta is a human and so are the rest of the girls!"

"They _were _humans you fool. You have just fallen for the illusion. How pitiful."

Jose would have argued further but the sounds of gunfire were broken apart by an ear-splitting scream within the test course. Both agents took up their own weapons and searched the course. They followed the sounds of gunfire and found Henrietta firing endlessly into a large block of concrete. Empty bullet cases littered the ground at her feet and her immobile target was perforated all over.

"Henrietta! What are you doing?"

The screams could still be heard. Jean climbed over one of the walls and peered over the chunk of stone, only to find Rico curled up in the foetal position crying out for help. Jose's eyes widened and he turned back to Jose. "Stop her now!"

Jose grabbed her by the shoulders and commanded her to stop but Henrietta was possessed. She did not even blink as she emptied an entire clip into the wall. When she ran out of bullets she unclipped the SIG from her belt and fired that instead. Jose shook her and roared as loud as he could over the thunderous explosions that echoed around the course until they were absolutely deafening.

"Henrietta!"

Nothing was working. It was only then that Jean's words rang through the back of his mind.

"_None of the other cyborgs have attacked each other and you know why? Because they are treated as they are; Tools!"_

"_...They are impervious to pain. The do not care..."_

"_...Teach her a lesson..."_

"_...You have gone soft on her."_

"_...Teach her a lesson..."_

"Dammit Jose stop her!" Jean roared over the incessant 'bang, bang, bang' of gunfire.

Jose glanced gown at Henrietta and cursed. "Henrietta!" She continued to fire. Jose took a deep breath and then his body moved of its own accord. He wasn't even aware of what he did, not until it was too late. By then Henrietta was on the floor and the echoing gunshots had become an annoying ringing in his ears.

Henrietta looked up at Jose with a look of utter betrayal. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears. A thin stream of blood dribbled down from the corner of her mouth and nose. She grasped her cheek and wiped at the blood, holding it up to her eyes. The fear in her eyes then was truly gut-wrenching.

Jose felt bile rise in his throat and he stared at his hands as if he had just committed murder. He had never felt so disgusted in himself before. "Henrietta I...I'm..." He moved towards her and she crawled away, whimpering like a wounded animal.

Jean dragged Rico out from her hiding place and led her away from the other fratello. "Come Rico, we're leaving." As he passed his brother Jean smirked. "You can't just hit them huh?" He chuckled to himself and headed off.

Other agents were starting to crowd around now. The other fratello had also gathered. All of them stared at the demolished test course and at the broken agents.

Jose bowed his head and left Henrietta where she was. He passed Hilshire and Triela and gave them a swift glance. "Please give Henrietta a lift back to headquarters." With that he rushed off.

Triela frowned at him as he ran off. "Hang on, what happened? Why is-"

"Triela." Hilshire spoke sternly. She knew what it meant and she quietened down. Hilshire closed his eyes and sighed. "Help Henrietta up and bring her to the car. I'll be waiting." He set off after Jose without any further hesitation.

Triela ran over to her fallen friend and helped her sit up. "Hey, what happened to you?"

Henrietta answered through unrecognisable sobs. She collapsed into Triela's arms and wept uncontrollably. The senior cyborg picked her up and carried her back to the car and found Hilshire staring at the afternoon sun.

He started the car and drove without a word for most of the way, ignoring Triela's questions and dismissing them by simply stating that he would tell her later. When they got back to headquarters they helped Henrietta back to her room and hoisted her up onto her bunk bed. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, motionless. Triela wanted to stay with her but Hilshire demanded she leave her alone for the time being.

"Hey! What happened back there?" Triela asked again.

Hilshire glared at Triela and his voice turned to a more sinister tone. "Jose hit her."

* * *

><p>Jose sat before the chief, staring at the table, resting his head atop his interlocked fingers. His shoulders were heaving and Ferro draped a blanket over him and handed him a cup of coffee. He stared at the drink as if it was poison but nonetheless tried to take a sip only to struggle to keep down a miniscule mouthful.<p>

The chief leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I've already heard several reports about what happened today at the training grounds. I know it seems like a disaster but I must assure you that it is not the first time one of the cyborgs has been struck by their handler. There is no need to beat yourself up over it."

Jose coughed. "Sir...You don't understand. Henrietta looks up to me. I am everything to her. I can only imagine how she must be feeling right now...She probably never wants to see me again."

The Chief sighed. "I doubt that. Henrietta's conditioning will bring her around just in time for the mission."

"No sir! You have to postpone it! I'm not ready, neither are the cyborgs. We have to-"

"I cannot postpone this any longer. Christiano is moving closer to this base every hour and we still haven't established contact with the Col Moschin stationed there. Padania is certainly involved and their movements are worrisome. We must intercept them or if it's already too late, eliminate them."

"But Chief-"

"I will have Doctor Bianchi check up on her in a little while and see if she is alright. If everything is fine then there is nothing to worry about. If there is a problem we may have to consider conditioning."

Jose slammed his fist on the table. "I won't let you condition her any further!"

"Very well. It is up to you to decide what is right for Henrietta; however this mission is of vital importance. I cannot let you back down at the last minute like this. You will be deployed around midday tomorrow. Be ready and make sure Henrietta is in line. I don't want any in-fighting on this one." The chief rose from his seat and set his cold, steely gaze on the younger agent. "Is that understood?"

Jose's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. "Understood sir..."

* * *

><p><span>Please review. There may not be a lot of you reading this but any comments or advice would be greatly appreciated. <span>


	4. Terrore

_**4: Terrore**_

Henrietta lay staring up at the ceiling, her eyes wide, still stuck in a look of unbridled fear. She had lived a life of violence, killing for nothing more than the affection of her handler. She had experienced wounds that would kill any other and yet she took it with a smile. And yet...This hurt terribly. Her face stung like it had been drenched in acid. It was tender to the touch and every time she absent-mindedly prodded it with a trembling hand it brought tears to her eyes. She had never felt such pain before...And the fear was worse.

That moment had not left her mind ever since Jose struck her. She had been so stunned by what her handler had done that she lost her balance. Her entire body went slack and she had just dropped to the ground. She had tried to stand, to move but she was unable. Triela had to carry her away; in fact it was Hilshire who drove her back to the dorms. She had not seen Jose since he hit her...And that was why she was afraid.

He had not helped her up. He had not stayed by her side. Instead he ran off. The thought of being abandoned forced fresh tears to the surface, streaming down her red, stinging cheeks. She didn't know how long she was lying there, motionless. It could have been a whole day. It could have been ten minutes. She didn't know anything anymore...At least, not now...

A knock came at the door and Henrietta sat up, expecting her apologetic brother. She was disappointed when it was just a doctor. Dr Bianchi strolled in and sat down at the desk by the window. He faced Henrietta and took out a notepad.

"Hello Henrietta, I heard there was some trouble between you and Jose."

Henrietta buried her face in her pillow. She didn't want to be reminded. It was already tearing away at her fragile mind.

Dr Bianchi continued regardless. "So, how are you feeling? You must be upset."

"Doctor...Why did he do it?"

The doctor frowned. "Well, you were endangering a comrade. No matter how angry you are with Rico there is no excuse for trying to shoot her. Those guns aren't toys and each and every one of you is vitally important to us. We can't have you attacking the other cyborgs. From what I was told Jose tried to reason with you but you had mentally blocked out everything around you." Henrietta averted her gaze. "Tell me, why are you so angry about this painting. It can be replaced quite simply and I'm sure Jose would have no problems getting another one. So why then, would you go against your handler's orders and attack a friend like that?"

"I don't...I don't want to disappoint Jose."

"So why did you ignore him?" Dr Bianchi asked, his question like an arrow through her heart. She had no answer to that and Dr Bianchi scribbled down on his notepad.

"Does Jose hate me?" Henrietta asked, her voice quaking. She was almost begging to find the answer.

Dr Bianchi stared at her for a second and sighed. "Are you afraid of being rejected by Jose?" The way Henrietta reacted to the word 'rejected' was answer enough. What little colour was left in her face vanished instantly and she immediately started to panic. Before the doctor could react she was hyperventilating and he had to climb up the bunk bed to check on her. "Henrietta! Calm down! Breathe slowly! Calm down!"

Henrietta doubled over and started to sob, her cries coming in ragged wheezes that sounded truly awful, as if she were suffocating on her own sadness. Dr Bianchi wrapped a blanket around her and reached for his phone.

"I need assistance now! Get Jose down here immediately! Quickly before she bloody asphyxiates!"

Henrietta was still wheezing and panting uncontrollably. The cyborgs were never usually prone to panic attacks and this was a complete mystery. Still, something had to be done fast before Henrietta...

* * *

><p>Jean watched over Rico as she ate her breakfast. He observed the way she spun her fork around her spaghetti. He had decided to keep her in his sights due to the events at the training grounds yesterday. Henrietta had proven to be an aggressive and dangerous addition to section 2 and considering her behaviour towards Rico it was deemed safest to keep her under surveillance before the mission. There was little time before they would be sent out. According to the Chief the incident would be overlooked and the mission would go ahead as planned, without any further delays. It would be risky, but none more so that allowing Christiano to escape the country and re-arm himself. He had to be stopped no matter what and if that were to be the loos of a cyborg...Then so be it.<p>

Rico was only a tool in his eyes. She was incredibly useful and it would be a shame to see her die, but hammers break. Saws go blunt. Inevitably all tools must be replaced. Still, he found it quite odd that he was so worried about Rico back at the training grounds. He was angry at Henrietta for opening fire against a comrade...But even if only he himself could tell, he knew he felt something akin to fear back then. Was he afraid he would get hurt? Was he afraid of the backlash from the chief? Or was he actually concerned about Rico?

"Jean?" Rico stopped eating and stared up at her handler. "Are you alright?"

Jean snapped out of his delusional thoughts and glanced sternly at his cyborg. "Of course. Eat. You need to be in good shape for this mission."

"But you haven't eaten anything at all..." Rico murmured.

Jean turned away. "It is not important. And besides...I'm not hungry."

Rico looked up at her handler and frowned. He always would be a mystery to her, but that was fine. Jean only told her what needed to be said. He didn't waste his breath on needless things. Content with his response she continued her meal all the while being kept under the watchful eye of her sibling.

* * *

><p>Triela sharpened her bayonet, grinding it against a stone. She stared deep into her own reflection and sighed.<p>

"What's wrong?" Claes asked, leaning down over the top of her bed to see her room-mate. "You look upset about something."

"Well...I feel bad for Henrietta. Hilshire told me we are leaving today, but she really shouldn't be going out on a mission after what happened yesterday." Triela set the bayonet down and started loading her M97. "I know we're cyborgs, but it would be nice if they treated us like normal girls for once..."

Claes adjusted her glasses and set her steely gaze upon Triela. "Hilshire buys you bears all the time. Jose spoils Henrietta with gifts...The Agency buys me books. They still treat us like girls, but only when the mission is completed. That is their incentive. It helps them validate the things they make us do."

"What are you-?"

"Our conditioning makes us obey them anyway, but by treating us to those little things it makes them feel less guilty about taking away our former lives. It's not so much a reward for us, but themselves. I'm sure you will get a lot of stuffed bears after this mission. Word is it's a big one." Claes groaned. "Meanwhile, I'll be tending to my garden..."

"Are you...Jealous?" Triela asked.

"No, I'm just tired. Both of us live repetitive lives. You pull a trigger day in and day out while I flip pages endlessly. I just wondered if there was something more for us out there in that big wide world?" Claes rolled her eyes. "I'm grateful for everything the agency has done...But..."

Triela placed her trench gun inside a violin case and made to the door. "It's best not to think such things. They might raise your conditioning if they heard that. Well, I have to go. I'll see you in a few days."

"Bye." Claes waved sluggishly, her nose already buried inside a book.

* * *

><p>Marco stood outside the infirmary, tapping his feet impatiently. "For Christ's sake where the hell is he?" He snarled under his breath. He checked his watch and cursed. There was not much time until he would be sent off. He had to get Angelica's medication before he went to the heli-pad but Dr Bianchi was nowhere to be seen.<p>

He waited another minute before taking a walk down the halls in search of the doctor. He wandered up to the end of the hall and found Angelica stumbling about as if she were drunk. She saw Marco and instantly straightened up, forcing it upon herself. She always pushed herself beyond, just to make him happy, to ensure she could go out on missions. There were times when he would really be proud of her, but those times were long forgotten...Especially for Angelica. Her memory had been terribly affected by the conditioning and it was as if every week were an entire new life for her. It was painful to watch her mind decaying like this but Marco endured. Just as Angelica forced herself to make him happy, he wanted Angelica to feel happy as well.

"Hi Marco." She chirped.

"Looking for me?" He asked simply. She nodded and started wavering on her feet. "I'm looking for Dr Bianchi right now. We'll get your medicine soon. Why don't you sit down until I get him?"

"No," Angelica smiled weakly, "I'm fine."

Marco rolled his eyes and continued down the hall. As he rounded the corner he was knocked over by someone running around. As soon as Marco was knocked off of his feet Angelica snapped into her defensive mode and reached out with lightning fast reflexes for the one who knocked down her handler. However the runner was moving so fast he barrelled into her as well and she too was flung into the wall where she sank down to the floor.

"Hey!" Marco roared, catching Angelica on her way down. "Watch it you son of a-"

Jose spun around to face Marco and there was genuine fear in his eyes. Not just a slight chill but absolute terror. Jose's eyes were bloodshot and vacant. His lower lip was trembling and he was shivering now that he was standing still. He said nothing and moved on, sprinting up the hall.

"Hey! Jose! What's wrong? Jose!" Marco called after his comrade but it was to no avail. Whatever had him spooked must have been more urgent than a clumsy agent. In the blink of an eye Jose had crossed the hall and was already ducking around another corner out of sight.

Angelica helped him up and after a short pause they continued on their way to find Dr Bianchi.

* * *

><p>The Chief received two reports from his men. One was from a panicking nurse and the other was from Ferro. Both were of concern. The nurse cried hysterically at him about Henrietta having a stress attack. Dr Bianchi was already there but he was having trouble calming her down. Unfortunately that was not nearly as bad as what Ferro had to say.<p>

Ferro sat down across from him and slapped a file down on the table. She stared him right in the eye, her face a portrait of stern and neutral detachment. "Christiano is still moving towards the military base. We still haven't re-gained contact with the base. We cannot waste any more time."

Lorenzo rested his head on his interlocked fingers. "Henrietta is experiencing difficulties in regards to her emotional stability. She may be a liability on the battlefield...But it could also be used to our advantage..."

"Sir?" Ferro frowned, not understanding the Chief's idea.

"Henrietta has been acting very aggressive lately. Her temper has been flaring and she has been having very violent outbursts. If her anger can be directed towards the Padania operatives then this may become easier than we thought." The Chief sighed. "It is worth a shot. We have little choice in the matter. We need as many cyborgs as possible for this and Claes is not sufficient enough to replace one such as Henrietta. I'm afraid that prepared or not this will definitely have to go on."

"The cyborgs are expendable sir. If Henrietta malfunctions out in the field she can be disposed of simply and no-one will ever know about it." Ferro spoke with cold-hearted abandon. They were merely machines to her and nothing more. If they were incapable of doing their job then like any tool it would be replaced without a second thought. It was a cruel mindset, but it was efficient and had gotten her to the place she was today.

The Chief scowled at the file before him. A faded photograph of Christiano glared up at him. "I do not wish to see the girls harmed...But it is true these girls were bred for battle. If they are to fall in combat then it is as simple as that. They will have served their duty and finally be granted the death nature had intended before they were encountered by our organisation. I will have no regrets and neither will their handlers. This is a war after all. Casualties are to be expected and better it be a cyborg then a genuine human."

"Exactly sir. There is nothing to worry about. The mission can go ahead as planned."

The Chief nodded. "Yes. Check up on the situation with Henrietta and round up the other cyborgs. They are to depart in thirty minutes. The choppers will be waiting for them."

Ferro nodded and marched out. The door closed with a bang behind her. The Chief remained stuck in position, staring at the photograph of Christiano and the map of the Base. He had a bad feeling about this, but Section 2 was in danger. The higher ups were increasingly resistant towards the use of children in battle. The failure to capture Christiano or any particularly incriminating evidence at his mansion had severely set them back. Every member of Section 2 was skating on thin ice and if this mission to the Alps failed then that ice would crack and everything they had worked so hard to achieve would be lost in an instant. For the sake of the young lives he cruelly altered he swore to ensure the success of his section. But the true battle would be in the soft, gentle hands of the girls and not an old man sitting in a chair.

Lorenzo looked out the window at the sky. It was a rather dull blue, its brilliance marred by a sun hidden behind grey clouds. He could see the choppers landing on the Helipad. Pilots the size of ants stepped out and rechecked the equipment while others loaded weapons onto the two flying fortresses, two A129 Mangusta helicopters.

The Chief looked away and read through the file.

* * *

><p>Jose barged through into Henrietta's room and found her on the floor with doctors crowding around her yelling like a pack of wolves over a carcass. He pushed through the throng of nurses and medics and kneeled over the poor cyborg. All he had heard was that there was an emergency involving Henrietta and that he was required instantly. He had rushed here as fast as possible.<p>

There was some relief in that she wasn't wounded, but her breathing was deeply worrying. It sounded like she was only breathing in very rapidly, her shoulders heaving with every cramped breath.

"Henrietta?" Jose leaned over her and gazed into her eyes. They were red from tears and her frail, child-like body was trembling violently as if she were dying of cold.

"Jose!" Bianchi roared over the chorus of arguing medics.

"What happened?"

"She's having a panic attack of some sort. I don't fully understand what happened but something about being rejected by you seemed to set her off."

"I understand." Jose lifted Henrietta up into a seated position, ignoring the protests from the doctors.

"She's struggling to breathe. It's best for her to lie down." One nurse said.

Jose ignored them and hugged her. "Henrietta...I will never abandon you. We are a fratello for as long as we exist. Nothing will change that, so please...Please calm down."

Her breathing seemed to slow down after that. She was still hyperventilating but it was a start. The doctors watched on, stunned as slowly but surely Jose calmed her down. His voice soothed her in a way sedatives could not.

"You make me proud Henrietta...I am always proud of you. Don't ever be afraid of me...I'm sorry I hurt you. I can only hope you can forgive me." Jose whispered in her ear. Henrietta's shoulder's stopped heaving and the trembling slowed until it was barely noticeable. The teary eyes cyborg glanced up at her handler and reached out with a frail hand, placing it on his back in a weak attempt at a hug.

Henrietta opened her mouth to speak but she was interrupted as Ferro stormed into the room.

"All cyborgs are to depart in thirty minutes. Get her fixed up and ready as soon as possible." She said it swiftly and headed out the door before anyone could protest, not that they could. The Chief was set on this mission. It was to be the decider for the Organisation's fate.

Jose looked down at his cyborg and frowned. He had never felt so nervous in his life. In the back of his mind he knew it was time. The moment he had been dreading had finally arrived. He could hear Ferro barking orders to the other cyborgs up the hall.

_So...It's time..._

* * *

><p><span>Please review. Any helpful advice is greatly appreciated and praise is not bad either. <span>


	5. Fallimento

_**5: Fallimento**_

The Helipad was silent. The choppers were grounded and the pilots stood at attention outside the flying war machines. Lorenzo stood with them, alongside the other members of section 2. They waited patiently, some checking their watches, waiting for the team to arrive.

It was another ten minutes until they appeared from the courtyard. Four agents and four cyborgs, heaving weapon cases and ammunition boxes. All wore grave expressions, the same sense of unease at their mission, but also determination. The importance of this mission could not be ignored and as such they knew they had to be prepared.

As they lined up opposite the chief they stood to attention like the others and awaited their orders.

Lorenzo frowned at them. "This mission is to be done well and done efficiently. I do not want any mistakes or any casualties. You are to scout the area first. Jean and Jose will take one helicopter and Marco and Hilshire will take the other. You will sweep over the area and do surveillance. I will be watching via camera links. You are to stay in the air until I give the order. From there you will either be deployed straight to the site, or fall back to a military safe house about three kilometres South East of the main base. It has been abandoned for quite some time and we have men stationed there to protect it. Do not engage the enemy until I give the order and do not do anything stupid. I want to see all of you return in one piece. Good luck."

The agents saluted and headed inside the chopper, tying down their equipment and taking their seats. Henrietta and Rico both stared at each other as they huddled inside the helicopter. Rico felt a tingle down her spine as Henrietta looked at her and she soon had to break her gaze and stare out the window. Henrietta ignored her after that and rested her head against Jose's shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" Jose asked warmly.

Henrietta forced a smile. "I'm fine...Really."

Jose patted her head. "Good."

Jean rolled his eyes and clipped a belt around his waist and adjusted the straps over his shoulders. He then made sure Rico was secured properly before giving the pilot a thumbs up.

The blades started spinning with a sound like thunder, soon followed by a high pitched wail. The noise was deafening and all passengers had to wear headphones not only to block out the sound but because it was the only way to communicate to one another.

The second chopper started to hover just above the ground as well and the two slowly ascended towards the clouds. When they were about two hundred metres above the ground they moved toward the horizon, towards the mountains.

Lorenzo placed a hand above his forehead to keep away the glare of the sun as he watched the choppers vanish from sight. His heart was pounding and he noticed his knuckles were white. He sighed deeply and bowed his head.

_I hope...I hope I have not doomed these girls to an early grave...Good luck. Please return...All of you…_

The girls and their handlers enjoyed the scenery as they soared over Italy, passing their home in Rome all the way to Venice and the seaside. Communication was difficult and so they tried to keep conversation to a minimum. Rico however was unable to suppress her awe at seeing the world from a bird's eye view and constantly pointed and yelled and exclaimed at the beauty of the cities they passed.

Jean would roll his eyes and tell her to quieten down while Jose would point out tourist attraction to his own little cyborg. Henrietta was unusually quiet, but at least she smiled. It made Jose feel less tense. Of course he knew she was not in the right state of mind for the mission but at least she was able to smile again. It meant a lot to him to see her happy. He knew how difficult a life she led and it was his only way of knowing he was doing the right thing. If she was happy, he was happy. If she was sad, Jose was sad too. Their mutual feelings may have been what helped them bond, but a lot of that was due to the conditioning. The girls were brainwashed into blindly following their handlers and to swear absolute loyalty to them...However Henrietta had developed something beyond loyalty.

Jean was cold to Rico, something he assumed was right. Personal attachment had only lead to heartbreak in the past and so he chose to refrain from such things now. He had seen those precious to him vanish in a sea of flames one terrible night. A bombing had killed his younger sister and parents. He had watched as fires raged and smoke choked the sky. He had heard the screams of innocents, dragged into Padania's vicious games. It was then that he swore to put an end to the evils committed by such men and joined the Social Welfare Agency. He did not care for Rico, only the number of terrorists she silenced and those who he felled with his own hands. It was a never-ending hunt.

The two brothers were worlds apart and yet so close. They had joined the agency together and had been almost inseperable since the tragic death of their family. A part of them both sympethized with the tragedies faced by the young girls selected by the Agency, but only one of them would ever admit it.

In the second chopper Marco gave Angelica her medicine. She had been dependent on the drug for quite some time now and her condition was only getting worse. She was slowly deteriorating. But the Agency saw it fit to use her up until there was nothing left. At first Marco disapproved, but now he realised it was not just important to the Agency, but to Angelica herself. She was desperate to go on missions like the others but not out of jealousy, rather a need to impress her handler. She wanted to make him proud. Little did she know that he was indeed proud of her. Even if she no longer remembered his stories or their past escapades, she was still the same young girl he had cared for all these years. She truly was like a little sister to him, possibly even a daughter...The thought reminded him of his ex-girlfriend Patricia. She had laughed at the notion of him caring for kids, but honestly he had grown to love it.

Triela and Hilshire were silent. Both preoccupied with other things. Triela was still upset about her shallow victory over Pinocchio. She had beaten her rival but it still felt empty, as if there was something missing. Was it because Padania was still active, was it because she was hurt so badly? She didn't understand fully. All she knew was that there was something more she needed...And her only clues would be found on the battlefield...for it was the only way for her.

Sure she could speak several different languages and recite the history of Italy without pausing for a thought but her only true calling was on the battlefield. It was he reason she had been made into a cyborg. Linguistics meant nothing when the villains speak with bullets.

"We are now approaching the base. Keep your eyes open. Just up past this road here you can see the main gate." The co-pilot explained. "The safe-house is just behind those mountains to the right. Now we'll sweep over the base and get a basic idea of what we're up against. The Chief will tell us what to do from there."

The base suddenly appeared from behind a thick covering of trees. Nestled between a large forest was a large iron gate, topped with barbed wire. The forest ran around most of the perimeter and the rest was shielded by the mountains. Inside the perimeter were numerous buildings. Several barracks, living quarters, several silos and a large manor in the centre of the compound. Guard towers cropped up every few hundred metres along the fence line but no sentries could be seen from the distance. In fact the entire area looked deserted.

It was late in the afternoon now and the sun was low behind the mountains creating an artificial night on the compound. It was almost eerie.

"Wow. Isn't this exciting Henrietta?" Rico beamed, mysteriously overjoyed at the empty base down below. Henrietta looked up and scowled but Rico persisted. "Come on, why won't you talk to me? Aren't we friends? We're a team!" She cheered to herself and jumped up out of her seat, only to be scolded by Jean.

Henrietta glared at her. "Shut up!" She cried, "Just shut up!"

"Hey." Jose placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder but Henrietta refused to let her anger die down.

"We aren't a team anymore! I'll never forgive you for what you did!"

"Henrietta calm down, it was only a painting," Jose said in vain.

"No!" Henrietta got up out of her seat and pointed an accusing finger towards the other cyborg. "I'm sick of you Rico! I wish you would just die!"

Rico's eyes widened. Her jaw dropped and her arms went slack. For a moment the entire chopper was silent and all eyes were glued to the arterial spray erupting from her chest. Rico tried to speak but no words escaped her. Her body sway to one side and fell right out of the open side of the chopper, far down into the treetops below.

"Rico!" Jean roared.

The chopper suddenly jerked violently like an angry bull at a rodeo and the pilot's curses could be heard over the headsets. "Dammit! We've been spotted! They have sentries on guard! Everyone get down!"

"Pull back dammit!" Jean roared. "Pull back!"

"I'm trying!" The pilot screamed.

Another shot tore through Jose's seat, barely missing his shoulder. A third hit the side of the door, denting the metal and creating a thunderous roar that was heard even over the whirring blades of the helicopter.

Jean grasped his headset before it fell off and roared into the microphone. "Everyone fall back! We've been spotted!" He flinched when a bullet soared past his cheek and hit the wall behind him.

Henrietta stood stunned in the middle of the aisle, her eyes on the vacant spot where Rico once stood. Now there was just a slick red patch on the ground which spread with the tilting chopper. The pilot spun the helicopter around and almost rammed into the second one trailing behind. The two both narrowly avoided collision but as the second began to spin around a column of smoke could be seen from down below in the camp. Something was moving towards them at a frightening speed and it was only when it was too late that they noticed what it was.

"It's a missile! Move it now!" Jean urged.

The second chopper whirled around but the missile struck the cockpit on the left side. The entire front of the chopper disappeared behind a bright blazing fireball and the screams of those inside drifted out like a haunting chorus of damnation.

"Hilshire? Marco? Are you there? Do you read me? I repeat! Do you read me?" Jean roared into his headset. "Hilshire? Marco?" He repeated himself despite getting no answer from either one.

"Henrietta get down!" Jose ran over to her side and shielded her from the heat of the raging flames which had started to engulf the rest of the chopper. The chopper went down in the treetops just around the perimeter of the base.

The first chopper barrelled away from the destruction and headed in the opposite direction, but then the vehicle rocked madly, the rotors squealing in agony.

"They're aiming for the blades!" The co-pilot cried, "We have to get out of range before they take us down too!" Unfortunately there was no chance to escape. A second missile struck their helicopter, decimating the back rotor and removing two of the main blades. The chopper keeled sideways, arcing around until it nearly faced the compound again. The roar of sniper fire echoed over the screams of the passengers and soon the co-pilot's head split open, spewing blood and tattered flesh around the cockpit. The pilot cried out in panic and desperately tried to steer the vehicle but there was no way to stop it now. The helicopter slammed into the treetops and those trapped within were thrown about like rag dolls until they were either crushed under their own equipment or thrown out the side.

The gunfire ceased. The piercing cry of the helicopter blades had also fallen silent. Even the breeze caught itself mid-gust. Throughout the area there was no sound except the crackling flames that gnawed away at the two choppers.

The mission had failed.

* * *

><p>Back at headquarters, Lorenzo had watched the whole nightmare unfold through cameras mounted inside the two choppers and the pilot's helmets. He witnessed the demise of the entire unit. The rest of section 2 was in the room with him as well, keeping him up to date on intel. Everyone watched on in stunned silence as each camera blacked out, except for one which showed a blurred shot of someone's arm. The limb was lacerated and ripped to shreds, yet one of the fingers still twitched. The orange glow of fire cast a dull haze onscreen and anything else in view was reduced to shadows.<p>

The Chief glanced down at his hands, staring at the white knuckles and raised veins. He was shaking, he could tell.

"Chief..." Ferro couldn't find the words she wanted. No-one in the room could. They had never anticipated anything like this.

One of the younger agents, Priscilla started sobbing. She buried her head in her hands and wept uncontrollably. Those around her tried to comfort her, but there was little that could be done to console them. This was terrible.

The chief turned to face the others, his expression grave. "Please excuse me." He rose from his chair and walked out the door. As soon as the door was closed he sank to his knees and made a choking sound. He leaned heavily against the wall and stared at the floor as if it held the answers to his problems.

_How? How did this happen? With this Section 2 will be done for! My dream...It is all over. I can't believe it's over so soon...All those years of hard work...All for this? Why?_

_Why?_

_WHY?_

The Chief slammed a fist against the wall, stirring up the agents inside the conference room. The spilled out like a human flood and surrounded him, curious gazes fixed upon him.

"Chief, what should we do?" Ferro asked.

Lorenzo bowed his head. "There is nothing we can do."

"What?" Priscilla cried. "Surely someone survived? The cyborgs can withstand a lot more than a human. Maybe we can-"

"No!" It's too dangerous. Sending a rescue team out there would be suicide. We would just lose more men. All we can do is accept our fate. Without the cyborgs and without success we will have no choice but to close down Section 2 for good."

"No!"

"Impossible!"

"There is nothing else we can do!" Lorenzo roared. "Our best agents were just gunned down and all of our cyborgs have been lost!"

"But what about Claes?"

"She has no handler and is unfit for combat. She will have to be destroyed to cover up our existence. None of you can ever speak a word about Section 2 or what we have done. Now please leave me be. I wish to be alone for a while."

The agents realised there was no use arguing. The Chief had made up his mind and even if he hadn't, the head of the Social Welfare Agency would close them down instead. They had run out of options and in the blink of an eye their lives as they knew them had been irreparably damaged. Section 2 had fallen the moment the first screams were heard. It was the end. The handful of agents would lose their jobs and their livelihoods, forever burdened with the horrific secret buried in their hearts.

They moved off, all with shoulders slack and heads bowed. The Chief watched them go and returned to the conference room, staring vacantly at the one working camera link. He sighed heavily and picked up the file about Christiano. He glared at the face in the photograph and hurled it across the room.

Suddenly Lorenzo felt a chill down his spine. He heard something. A faint cry. A weak little voice crying as softly as the wind, "It hurts..." The voice was faint and crackly from the damaged microphone in the pilot's helmet but he recognised the voice. He had heard it many times and it was as familiar to him as if they were his child.

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed and with growing dread he stared up at the screen. Amidst the raging flames and dancing shadows he could see something...No, _someone_. The breath caught in his throat and he fell back against his desk. His eyes caught something onscreen...Something that shocked him to the very core.

Just beyond the wreckage, lying in the dirt, her uniform stained in blood and dirt and looking like she was freshly exhumed...Clawing at the earth, desperately dragging herself forward...It was Henrietta...


	6. Catturato

_**6: Catturato**_

A pained whimper echoed out from the torn skeletal frame of the fallen helicopter. Steel jutted out like fractured bones and broken glass littered the ground around it. A broken child opened her eyes and looked out into the darkness around her. The night sky was fazed out by a brilliant orange light, almost like the sun. In fact it burned like the sun as well.

Henrietta reached in front and dug her fingers into the earth. She then used her cybernetic ally enhanced muscles to drag herself forward, unaware of the minefield of glass shards beneath her. She felt the biting pain as she was sliced and scraped by the glass. She rolled onto her side and inspected the lacerations to her stomach.

"Wha...Why? Why did this..." She couldn't finish that thought; waves of searing pain coursed through her and stuck the poor child with unimaginable force. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists and curled her knees up against her chest as she let out a wail of frustration and agony. She wasn't used to it. Bullets seemed to tear through her without her feeling it, but this sensation dragged on for eternity. It gnawed away at her subconscious and forced her eyes to leak unwanted tears. She wiped them away angrily and tried to stand.

Henrietta only managed to get on one knee before collapsing back into the dirt. The intense heat from the fire made her dizzy and her cheeks burned. She crawled away from it with dreadful slowness, every torturous second seeming to last ten times as long. She grit her teeth until they were almost cracking and with fierce determination she dragged herself away from the flames.

She saw something a few metres away. It looked like a balloon with a long pink ribbon attached, but after squinting at it she realised it was something entirely different. A normal child would have been revolted to the point of nausea but Henrietta merely had to look away. The severed head and the helmet still over it clicked and whirred like a mechanical baby bird crying for its mother.

_What happened? I can't...I can't..._

A brief flash of her memory rushed up to the surface of her barely conscious mind and Henrietta relived the tattered reminiscence of the incident.

_"Shut up! Just shut up!" Her words made Rico make a strange face, a look of betrayal. Jose tried to calm them down but Henrietta was too furious to listen to him, even if he was the voice of reason. "I'm sick of you Rico! I wish you would just die!"_

_Rico's expression changed ever so slightly. Her eyes went wider and her jaw dropped. A thin red line oozed down from the corner of her mouth and her chest started spurting out bright red blood like an obscene fountain. Rico started to fall to the side and in the blink of an eye she had fallen out of the helicopter. _

_Then Henrietta heard screaming. She wasn't sure if it was her own. She heard gunshots...Many, many gunshots. Then there was fire. Then there was pain. Then there was darkness..._

Henrietta sobbed. She found her self shaking and she wanted to curse her own weakness but her body refused to let her. All she could do was keep crawling, to escape the pain...

"It hurts..." She whimpered, dragging herself forward, towards the enshrouding darkness of the forest. She only made it so far when she heard noises. A dog was barking and people were yelling. Henrietta reached a large tree, its trunk rotted with age and its bark as black as coal. She pushed up against it and managed to get into a seated position, facing the crash site. She wheezed painfully as her lungs overworked themselves. She waited, optimistic despite her terrible situation.

_I'm going to be saved...It must be a rescue team...They'll find Jose and Jean and everyone and we'll all be saved...We can...We can try again another day, just as long as we're saved..._

When she saw shadows through the trees she was glad. The dogs barking grew louder and she wanted to wave and cry out to them but she was feeling tired...So very tired. All she could do was groan awkwardly and sway from side to side.

She saw people, people in army uniforms. They had guns too. They had to be the Col Moschin...They were good guys...They were saved...Right?

"Well, well, well. We've got a live one." Someone said rather loudly, probably to be heard over the dog. The dog in question rushed over to the severed head and dragged it over to its master. The dog sat at one of the soldier's heels and waited. The soldier had short, cropped grey hair and a short silver beard. He kicked the head over and stared at it.

"Cameras..." He murmured, his voice harsh and gruff like a smoker. He looked up and noticed Henrietta. He instantly moved towards her with long strides and he was upon her in no time. He kneeled down and cupped a hand around her chin, turning her head from side to side and up and down. He studied her with a curious gaze and then his features relaxed into a smile. "Hello. We've been looking for you."

Henrietta swayed to the side again, this time involuntarily. "Really?" She asked dazedly.

The soldier nodded. "Yes. I'm glad you're alright. We were afraid you were all killed. Now let's get you back to headquarters shall we?"

"Wait..." Henrietta whispered. "Jose..."

"Don't worry, the others will keep looking for your friends," The soldier explained, "But right now you need to get some rest." He picked her up and carried her past the wreckage and back through the forest. Henrietta succumbed to the world of sleep before long and her dreams were of dancing flames.

* * *

><p>Triela woke to the sounds of barking dogs. She raised her head and stared out at the expansive forest before her. The trees seemed to swallow up everything, even the burning wreckage of their helicopter. Triela slowly clambered to her feet and checked herself over for injuries. She had a piece of shrapnel in her thigh and her left wrist was broken. She frowned and scanned the area, finding nothing but more darkness.<p>

"Where...Where is everyone?" She moved closer to the orange lights that filtered between the thick undergrowth. As she neared it she saw people lying sprawled out on the ground. Angelica and Marco were together. The experienced handler was still conscious and he was tending to his cyborg. He looked up at Triela and forced a smile.

"Triela...You're alive."

She nodded and looked over to the ruined chopper. "What about the others?" She asked fearfully.

Marco bowed his head and pointed to the wreckage. "Hilshire was unconscious. I left him to get some rest. I sure hope those Padania scum aren't trawling the forest for us right now. If they don't go searching we may be able to rest here until the morning.

Triela set her gaze upon the soldier and spoke purposefully. "What if they are searching for us?"

Marco sighed and wiped his brow. "Then I guess we run for the safe-house. That is our safest option. An assault on the base right now would be suicide. We need to wait for reinforcements. We can get the army involved and flush the terrorists out of here, but first we need to regroup. I would have gone searching for the others, but..." Marco looked down at Angelica and sighed, "I need to take care of Angelica..." He placed a pill on the tip of her tongue and tipped her head back, washing it down with water. He rubbed her throat to assist her in swallowing the medicine and then he sat back and stared up at the sky, or at least what could be seen through the thick foliage. "I don't want to lose her..."

Triela nodded and sat down against a tree trunk opposite him. They both fell silent, listening to the crackling flames and the barking dogs. It was not until human yelling could be heard that they began to panic.

"Shit! We have to move." Marco snarled, cradling Angelica and struggling to his feet. He looked to his companion and then to the rustling leaves not far from their location. "Can you carry Hilshire?"

Triella nodded and retrieved her handler. She carried him over her shoulder and limped awkwardly over to Marco. Together they stumbled on through the forest, headed towards the direction of the safe house. The barking dogs were becoming louder and louder and the yelling more intense. Their words were almost understandable now that they were getting closer.

The cyborg and the soldier pushed on through the thick undergrowth, pushing aside branches and manoeuvring around tree trunks and bushes. Triela took the lead since her cybernetic implants allowed her to withstand injuries better than the average human. Nevertheless, the steel shard embedded deep in her leg was causing her immense discomfort. She could feel it grinding against her femur with every stride but she gritted her teeth and tried desperately to stay above the pain.

The bushes behind them suddenly parted and a large shadow lunged out from the darkness, barely visible in the diminishing light of the forest. Marco was knocked down and he landed face first in the dirt. He swiftly rolled over and moved into an awkward crouch. His muscles ached but his reflexes were still well-honed from his experience in the military. He reached out to grapple his mysterious opponent but felt razor sharp claws sink into his chest.

Once again Marco was knocked down, this time pinned down by his foe. The dog was a hideously overgrown beast, well equipped with dripping fangs and sharp claws. The dog itself had weighed more than Angelica and Marco struggled to throw it off. He held the beast's jaws a hairs breadth away from his face, staring into its snapping maw as it desperately tried to maul him. Marco cursed under his breath and pushed all his weight into his upper body, throwing the dog into a tree. The hound bounced off of the thick bark and barked out loud. It did not take long for it to come back but Marco was prepared this time.

As the dog lunged Marco tackled it and the two rolled about on the ground, both growling at one another. The big black beast sank its jaws down into Marco's shoulder and he cried out in agony. In a fit of pain Marco kicked out and felt his boot sink into the muscular underbelly of the hunting dog. Despite feeling somewhat like kicking a rock it still yelped pitifully as it was thrown back. Marco took the opportunity to take out the combat knife he had strapped to his vest. He pounced on the hound and silenced it forever with a swift slash across the throat, just like he would have done to a human soldier. The dog tried to whimper but a gurgling squeak was all that escaped it and the aggressive pet collapsed in a heap.

Marco rolled onto his back and panted, one hand held over the nasty bite wound to his shoulder. Blood pumped out and he felt it seep through his fingers and run down his hands. He cursed and reached into his vest where he found a small first-aid kit. He placed a gauze bandage over it and wrapped it up. Triela assisted him and then together they moved on, however the yelling voices were very close now.

They moved in silence, afraid any noise would give them away to their pursuers. They overheard the cries of the Padania members as they found their pet. There was some cursing and then a round of orders was given.

Marco tried to listen in on them but he was too distracted by the splitting headache he had gotten right after he was bitten. He looked back to check the gap between the hunters and the hunted but in doing so did not see an upraised tree root and tripped. He dropped Angelica and caused a stir among the birds nestled in the tree-tops.

"They're close!" One of the hunters roared.

Triela dragged Marco to his feet and they made to escape, but then the shadows of the trees parted to reveal enemy soldiers on all aides. Triela dropped Hilshire and reached for the side-arm inside her coat. As she drew the gun out an arrow pierced her hand and pinned it to her chest. Stunned, Triela fell back, only to be caught by another foe. She tried to fight back but felt the electrifying effects of a tazer against the back of her neck. She convulsed violently and doubled over, but still she tried to fight back. Another soldier slammed the butt of his rifle into her face while the man with the taser fired again. This time Triela went down and she her resistance crumbled.

Meanwhile, Marco fought off against those who tried to enslave him. He brought out his knife and sliced through one man's throat. As they moved to surround him he took out his side-arm and opened fire, taking down two more, but then there were soldiers all over him. He was beaten savagely and stripped of his weapons. Then he was dragged away.

* * *

><p>Jean took his brother away from the crash site. He hid in secret, all the while watching as the Col Moschin and Padania troops swarmed around the fallen chopper. They searched around and took away Henrietta, as well as any weapons and supplies that they could salvage from the blazing chopper...And those that Jean hadn't found first.<p>

He was well prepared. He took enough weapons to hold off any invaders as well as a medi-kit and a radio. He would try and contact the Agency as soon as the enemy backed off, but for now he had to remain silent. HE had watched them unleash two dogs. One had sniffed out the dead pilot while the other raced off towards the other crash site. The troops split up with one group following each dog. The group that stayed behind were led by a Col Moschin member, judging from his uniform. He had a grey beard which he stroked thoughtfully as he had scanned the wreckage. It was he who retrieved Henrietta and carried her away. He left at least a dozen men behind to search the crash site further and it was at least an hour until they started to disperse.

One of the men came dangerously close to where Jean lay under thick grasses. He dropped down out of sight and listened in as the enemy's radio screeched with feedback before a message was addressed to him.

"The other chopper has been found. Team 2 has recovered more prisoners and we have more weapons. Both teams are to fall back to base immediately. We shall have to greet our guests with the proper respect they deserve..." The voice over the radio laughed wickedly and then cut out.

Jean peeked through a gap between the long grasses and watched as the troops turned around and marched back. The one with the radio stayed where he was and gave one last survey of the scene. When the others were out of sight Jean took out a silenced pistol and killed him. The man was merely a Padania grunt, dressed in mostly casual clothes but with a Kevlar vest over his shirt. Jean spat on the corpse and stole his radio receiver. It would come in handy if he was to finish the mission.

"Padania scum!" Jean whispered harshly. "I swear I will destroy you all! I will keep this proud nation free from such vermin!" He pulled the trigger once more, and then again and again.

_So, Padania has recruited the Col Moschin...This is very unfortunate. Could the military be in league with terrorists? For our sake I hope someone out there can help us..._

_Otherwise..._

* * *

><p><span>Thanks to those who have reviewed, your support has been very helpful. I must point out that this story will become rather violent in coming chapters, but this is a tale about terrorism and war so that is to be expected. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and please feel free to review.<span>


	7. Insidia

7: _Insidia_

Angelica felt pain...It wasn't a nice sensation. She didn't feel it often, only when bad things happened. But when had bad things happened to her? Last she remembered she was going on a mission with everyone. She was so excited to go on a mission. She hadn't felt the fresh air in a while. It would be great.

Still, the pain was rather irritating. She was cold too. Angelica didn't like the cold.

"She's awake." A stern voice called from nearby. Angelica couldn't see anyone but she was sure she had her eyes open. She was confused.

More voices called out, none of them sounded familiar. Nothing was familiar to her at the moment, not even the smell in the air. Sure it had a slight whiff of gunpowder, something she had grown accustomed to, but this was quite different. Something was wrong about this moment, but Angelica struggled to comprehend just what that something actually was.

Footsteps pounded near her. She craned her neck but everything was darkness to her deceiving eyes. She blinked but every time she looked all she could see, was nothingness.

"Wake up!" A deep voice demanded. Was that an order? Only Marco could give her orders. Who was this man?

Lights switched on and the world was bathed in artificial light, but with the darkness preceding it, the pure flood of luminescence was like the sun rising before her very eyes. Angelica closed her eyes and tried to place her hands up to shield them, but her hands were bound behind her back. Now she was quite certain something was wrong...But then again she was usually restrained for the conditioning...Maybe she had another treatment before the big mission.

A man appeared before her, his face unrecognisable. He looked mad. He wore faded army fatigues under heavy body armour. The man was smoking, the scent of the smoke wafting throughout the room and causing an almost suffocating aroma. Angelica would have coughed, were it not for her cybernetic lungs. She just stared at the unfamiliar person.

"Um...Excuse me. Who are you?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to one side.

The man scowled. "You want answers? You're asking the wrong person. You see we aren't in charge of this operation. We're just helping out an old friend."

"Huh?"

"Padania...You sweet young things have quite a grudge against them don't you? Or is it just those disgusting Southerners brainwashing that makes you feel that way?"

Angelica didn't understand the question. She just looked up at him, still waiting for the answer to her own inquiries. She was answered with a closed fist. The man took another drag of his cigarette and sighed with his mouth opened wide, allowing rings of smoke to drift carelessly from his lips. It looked rather pretty, but that wasn't important right now.

"Who are you?" Angelica repeated.

"Me?" the man asked, placing a hand over his heart, "I'm just you average soldier in the elite Col Moschin. My name isn't important right now. In fact it never will. I don't really feel like answering your questions right now, so how about you answer some for me?"

"Um...Ok..." Angelica tried to shrug, but the restraints limited her mobility. In the end she merely looked like she had convulsed.

The man laughed at her obvious struggle. "Can't move eh? Sorry but we've seen what you little girlies can do when you're all fired up and so we had to take precautions. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions. If you get them all right, I'll let you see your friends again and you can all go home. If you answer wrong..." The man made a fist and stuck his thumb out. He then dragged his thumb across his throat while making a strange face. "Is that understood?"

Angelica nodded.

"Very well. What is your name?"

"Angelica."

"Angelica huh? Very well Angelica. What is an innocent little girl, as cute as a button, doing in a place like this?" The man crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

"I don't know...Where are we?"

The man looked less than impressed. "What?"

"I don't know where I am...Is this the Organisation?"

The soldier scratched his neck and groaned. "Ooh, I'm sorry. That is a wrong answer. You said you would tell me the truth didn't you?" Angelica nodded curtly, "Then tell me who sent you!"

"Sent me where? I'm a little confused." Angelica smiled sweetly, at least until the soldier punched her full in the face, his hardened fist colliding with her cheek. There was immense force behind the strike, so much so that Angelica's chair fell back and she too was dropped onto the floor. Her arms were still wrapped up behind the back of the chair and so she was utterly trapped. Unfortunately it was only then that Angelica realised what was happening. Her memory came flooding back.

Images of fire played back through her mind, the screams of close friends echoing within. Angelica's eyes narrowed and she struggled against her captor but he was now standing over her, one boot pressed down against her chest to keep her pinned to the floor. "Memories eh? So confusing. So do you remember now?"

Angelica snarled under her breath. She cast her gaze about the room to look for something to use, but she found none. The room was bare aside from the chair and a table in the corner. She was trapped.

"Answer me Angelica. Who sent you here?"

She refused to answer, even as his boot was pressing down upon her trachea, crushing her airways. She choked, her cheeks draining of colour. She writhed about and tried to free her hands but it was an impossible task. She lashed out with her legs instead, snaking them around the soldier's waist. His eyes widened in shock and surprise but it was too late. She leaned back to gain momentum and then forced all of her body weight into her lower body and threw the man down while pushing the chair upright at the same time. The feat would have been impossible for a normal human, or at the very least incredibly difficult, but with cybernetic musculature, Angelica managed without too much struggle.

"Grrr, kill her! Kill the bitch now!"

Angelica leaned forward and got onto her feet. She felt dizzy, but she knew she had to act fast. To save herself and to help Marco. She dashed forward and barrelled into two men who had entered the room after the soldier's order had been given. There were five of them in total. All of them had guns. Angelica waited for them to start firing and whirled around so that the chair took the impact. She felt them strike her, but the impact was softened from the chair. As the wooden frame split apart she managed to slip her arms out. Though they were still bound behind her she was at least able to run freely.

"Fire! Fire!" the soldier sat up and reached for a holster by his side.

Angelica ducked under one of the shooters and drove her knee into his gut. The man let out a violent cough and dropped like a bag of cement. A second shooter beside him glanced off a round which hit the cyborg in the shoulder. She barely seemed fazed by it and Angelica fought on relentlessly. She lunged, throwing herself into the shooter's centre mass. Her shoulder collided with his belly and she managed to tackle him to the ground, relinquishing the gun from his grip.

The other shooters managed to bring her down while she was on the ground. Three rounds were fired into her back, one hitting her directly in the spine. Although replaced with a technologically enhanced column of steel and machinery, that shot did a great deal of damage.

Angelica flopped forward and found it hard to move. She rolled over slowly and tried to sit up but her legs wouldn't obey her. She gasped and tried again but to no avail. She willed her legs to move but it was futile...

The soldier approached her and fired another bullet in her chest. Angelica cried out in agony and rolled over onto her stomach.

"Stuck? I thought so. I took out your spinal column. You may be a fucking machine but that doesn't make any difference. You can't send signals to your legs anymore and your arms are still tied up. I think your little rebellion has come to an end. Now how about you answer my questions?"

Angelica was no longer listening. She was sobbing. She had failed her handler and herself. She was useless in the end. Marco would be so disappointed in her...

_Marco? I have to find Marco! I can't...I can't lose now...Not just yet!_

With a groan of effort Angelica tried to break the chains that bound her wrists but it was still useless. Angelica gave up before long and tried to catch her breath.

"Humph. Useless..." The soldier rolled his eyes and took out his radio. "Falcon, this is Sparrow. The girl isn't talking and we've had a bit of a disturbance. She almost broke out. Huh? No she won't be walking again. She's done for." The man laughed hysterically for a moment before falling completely silent. "Huh? Seriously? On your end as well? Damn it! Alright I'll be there shortly. Over." He put the radio away and glanced down at his captive.

"Think about my question. I'll give you an hour to come up with an answer and if you still have nothing then I'll have to put a bullet in that gorgeous little face. We don't want that now do we?" He left her with the unsettling sound of his laughter, a dry chuckle that was dripping with venom. Angelica wished to destroy him and fulfil her orders but it seemed she was helpless to do so.

The men left her alone. They closed the door and she could hear them wandering off.

When she was sure they were gone she tried once again to break her restraints.

* * *

><p>Jose overheard gunshots. He wanted to check out the situation, but his eyelids felt so damn heavy. He could barely lift them. He groaned with the effort of just prying them open enough to let the moonlight filter in and that alone stung his eyes as if he had been welding without a mask. He cursed and tried again and this time he could see blurs.<p>

"Brother." It was Jean's voice. Not many people could tell, but Jose knew his brother was worried. Most people saw him as more or less a robot. A crime fighting robot like in the movies...But Jean was human; he just tries not to show it. Jose had been around him long enough to understand that. Jean was afraid of showing weakness to anyone, whether they be friends or foes. No matter what, he would be strong. It was all to prove to himself that he was not useless, a common feeling after the death of their parents in the Padania attacks many years ago.

"Jean, what happened?"

"The choppers...They were shot down. The Col Moschin are indeed in league with Padania. They gave the terrorists access to military weapons and so they were able to ground our unit. I lost contact with the others, but if my guess is right then most of our comrades have been taken back to their base. Rico however...She must still be out there."

"What makes you say that?"

"She fell long before the chopper did. She must be some distance away. They enemy wouldn't have searched that far. They found so many of us here that they called off the search early. They are highly organised and their equipment is the best. The Col Moschin unit must have been trading weapons for years...Even worse is they found much of our supplies as well. I salvaged what I could, but it will only go so far..." Jean turned to pick up a small pistol and an Amati violin case.

Jose recognised it immediately. "This is...Henrietta's. If we can find her we can-"

"Launch a strike against the combined forces of the enemy? You really think we stand a chance, just us?" Jean rolled his eyes.

"Come on! You know how powerful Henrietta is! Even Rico. All of the girls are incredible soldiers with the best training in all of Italy! If we can find Rico and Henrietta, then we can infiltrate their base and rescue the others. With everyone reunited we can-"

Jean raised his hand in protest. "It is far too dangerous. For all we know the others could already be dead. It may just be you and me. If so then we must reach the hideout. We can contact the Agency and request reinforcements. We can reign in everything we have and destroy these bastards once and for all!"

"But by then the others will have-"

"Forget about them!" Jean roared. "This is a war Jose! You must think of victory first, survival second and friends last! Is that understood? You can abandon a fellow soldier, but you cannot abandon your country! If you throw away your life then you are just letting Padania win!"

"You're wrong!" Jose cast his gaze out across the expanse of the forest and sighed. "I just know Henrietta is still alive. I can...feel it."

"You're just saying that because you've become too attached. You're deluding yourself into believing she is alive because you can't let go of her! We all know the only reason you care for her is because she looks like her!"

Jose gasped, his eyes wide.

"Yes, I noticed! It's because of our dear little sister. You see her inside of Henrietta. That is the only thing keeping you from abandoning that broken piece of tin and seeing reality for what it truly is! Our sister is dead, alright! And Henrietta will be too! Let go of the past and-"

Jean didn't finish his sentence. Jose was panting heavily; unable to cope with the anger he was feeling. Jean had gone too far. He had severed nerves and unearthed secrets that were better left buried. He stood over his brother and scowled.

"You...You may abandon all hope at the first sign of trouble. You can go ahead and think that everyone is dead...But don't you _ever_ take it away from me! It is because I believe in Henrietta...That I can keep going. You see her as just a machine, but I see a little girl, trying her hardest to survive in a world we forced upon her. I don't care if she acts like our sister or looks like her...I just want to make it up to her."

"You fool..."

"Call me a fool all you want, but know this. I am not afraid of battle. I've served the Agency long enough...The one thing I am afraid of...Is the guilt I feel over Henrietta. If I disappoint her. If I fail at keeping her happy...Then I will have lost everything. That is why...I...I..."

"I must save her!"

* * *

><p><span>The girls are in danger. Angelica has already suffered at the hands of these elite opponents. Just what does the Col Moschin want and why are they allying with terrorists? And is Jose's resolve enough to save them? Will he truly be able to rescue them? Find out in the next chapter!<span>

By the way, thank you to those who have been giving me feedback, your comments are very helpful. Please review. 


	8. Sperare

**8:** _**Sperare**_

_The air was cool. Winter had sunk its frozen claws into the town and icy winds wafted through the empty streets. Under veil of darkness a black sedan arrived alongside the canal. Two figures stepped out. One was Victor Hartman, the other, Rachelle Belleut. They wore thick jackets to keep the cold from settling upon them. _

_Hartman let out a heavy, drawn out sigh. Steam misted out from his jaws and dispersed into the breeze. The Europol investigator stared up at the imposing building before them. A warehouse thought to be abandoned after this area of the docks had long ago gone silent. The rusted doors barely held on their decaying hinges but somehow they stood firm. Broken windows and cracked walls marred its surface, making it look like a scene out of a horror movie..._

_In a way that was true. This warehouse was the site of illegal snuff films. Children were being abducted and sold through human trafficking syndicates. When they arrived here they were tortured, maimed and dismembered all while a camera rolled. These vile films were being distributed around these rings and placed on the black market. _

_Hartman had seen such videos. He had wanted to investigate but his superiors discouraged him, told him he was too soft...When he watched the videos he thought it might have been true. But he also knew that he couldn't let such evil to continue. He had to end the violence and shut down the child trafficking ring even if it was by himself!_

_Rachelle had seen the children, had performed their autopsies. She knew exactly what went on in these filthy dens. She too, wanted to put an end to it. Even if the authorities were no longer on their side, they both swore to save those innocent children. _

_And so they went in..._

_The rusted doors squealed softly as they were pushed open. The two nervous saviours stepped through into the denizen of the damned. The Camorra mafia could have been swarming throughout the entire building, so they both brought fire-arms. Victor clutched his pistol so hard it was giving him muscle cramps. Rachelle held her weapon loosely, almost afraid to use it. Victor paused and looked back at her. _

"_You shouldn't go in just yet."_

_Rachelle forced a weak smile, but she was sweating and she was shaking. Still she smiled and whispered reassuringly, "Don't worry about me. I've seen enough children dead. I don't want to see anymore." She tightened her grip on the revolver in her white-knuckled hands. _

_Hartman did not wish to leave her behind and so he let her continue along beside him. He took the lead, scouting the empty halls for danger. They made progress deep inside the large building, but soon enough they reached the mafia. _

_A guard took aim and fired, his bullet soaring past Victor's head and hitting the wall beside him. He and Rachelle were already out in the open and as they scrambled to safety more gunshots rang out in the massive chamber. Hartman fired just once, his bullet striking the mafia grunt in the chest. The guard dropped from his position and landed on the cold hard floor. _

_Hartman sighed with relief until he turned to his companion. She was hunched over, her face contorted in an expression of pain. She cradled her stomach, but it did little to stop the thick crimson stains from spreading out between her fingers..._

* * *

><p>Hillshire's eyes opened and he saw little but the darkness around him. Wherever he was there were no lights on. He realised he was no longer in the warehouse. That had just been a dream...Dreams from a not too distant past.<p>

_Rachelle...I lost you by trying to protect her...I cannot lose her as well!_

He struggled with his restraints. Thick ropes had been knotted around his wrists and separate ropes had been used to restrain his ankles and his torso. Someone didn't want him moving around. Was it Padania? It had to be! But what of the Col Moschin? Had they truly betrayed their own country?

"Damn!" Hillshire pushed off with his feet as hard as he could, sliding slowly backwards towards a bench. He made it without any unwanted guests stopping by and after a quick scan of the room he began rubbing his restraints against the corner. It was slow, it was meticulous and the threat of being discovered was immense, but Hillshire grit his teeth and grated his wrists against the corner, slowly but surely peeling away the fibres of the rope and inching closer and closer to escape. While he did so, the bitter memories stirred by his defeat began to rise up once again...

* * *

><p>"<em>Rachelle! Hold on! We can get outside and call an ambulance!"<em>

"_But the children...We haven't found them...We must save them!" She wasn't stopping, even with a bullet embedded in her flesh. She wheezed and groaned as they progressed further, Rachelle leaning heavily upon her friend. She limped awkwardly, losing strength with each step. Her breathing was becoming shallower. _

"_Please, we have to call an ambulance!"_

"_No! We have to help those poor kids!"_

"_But-" Victor's plea was cut off as Rachelle raised her arm and pointed to a vague sliver of light seeping in from the next room. _

"_Look...A light..." She coughed violently and fell to her knees. She desperately tried to rise but Hillshire forced her to sit. _

"_Please...Just stay here." He found it hard to look at her. Seeing the pain in her eyes made him feel ill. Made him feel afraid. He shook the doubts from his mind and loaded his weapon before setting foot in the room beyond. _

_Hartman slid up against the wall until he seemed to meld into it. He slowly inched his way forward until he could peer around the corner and into the room beyond. It was dark, but a weak, dull spotlight fell upon a large sheet in the centre of the space. The sheet was a creamy white colour, but much of it had been stained dark red. Something was there, lying there...What was it?_

_The investigator took a hesitant step forward and then another and another. He approached the scene of the crime and instantly his heart sank. _

_A camera tripod was set up a few feet away and upon the sheet lay a young girl with beautiful blonde hair, so long that it trailed down to her waist. The girl was not moving, nor did she appear to be breathing. Bloodied instruments of torture were scattered around her and something wrapped up in linen. On closer inspection Hartman recognised the shape of a foot under the wrapping and his stomach heaved. _

"_We were...Too late?" _

_Her throat was sliced open, the ragged wounds starting to grow crusty from the congealed blood clots. Her delicate skin had been lacerated and bruised all over and much to his distress, her right leg was severed below the knee, a ruptured, bleeding stump now in plain sight. _

_Rachelle stepped past him, limping and swaying as she moved, and kneeled down beside the girl. _

"_Rachelle-"_

"_Watch the hall for me please," She pressed her hands against the victim's chest, "This girl is still alive...I...I have to save her!"_

_She worked feverishly, giving everything she had to revive the poor child. She was panting, wheezing, coughing, and exhausting herself to bring back just a tiny spark of life in the delicate young creature that had tragically been stolen from them. She knew she would be unable to last much longer. She had been shot. The end was near for her...But...But if she could do this one final favour...If she could save just one child, she would die happy...She would have no regrets. _

"_Victor...I'm right aren't I?" she cried._

"_What?"_

"_This world isn't forsaken?"_

"_No, of course not! And it's because there are wonderful people like you, Rachelle!"_

_She worked harder, pushing herself beyond her limits to resuscitate the girl. Rachelle's own body was straining, wearing down. Her arms felt heavy, she couldn't feel her legs. She saw death rushing closer and so she did not stop, did not rest. Sweat poured down her forehead and her breath caught in her lungs but still she did not look back, did not hesitate nor rest. She kept on compressing until...Until..._

"_Rachelle?" Hartman choked on the word, unable to let it roll off his tongue. She did not respond. She stopped compressing the girl's chest and doubled over, falling on top of the girl. Hartman just stood there, paralysed with shock. _

"_Rachelle? Rachelle? Rachelle!"_

_In that instant, a pair of stunning, azure eyes opened and tears flowed..._

* * *

><p>"Triela!" Hillshire looked around the room, almost expecting his cyborg to be there by his side. He discovered nothing but emptiness. The room was void of life aside from the lonely captive. It was unusual for a prisoner to just be left like this. He must have been kept for the Padania terrorists while the Col Moschin took care of the cyborgs. It seemed the worst case scenario had presented itself.<p>

Hillshire groaned as the raw pain in his bound wrists seemed to increase ten-fold. The ropes were chafing his hands and rope burn had sunk in after so long. He had no way of knowing how long he had been grinding the restraints against the bench corner, but he was surprised that the sun had not yet risen. He felt tempted to look at his watch but his hands were still tied behind his back. Part of the knot had come loose, but there were still multiple coils of fibre to get through before he could taste the fresh air.

His cheeks felt wet and he looked up, assuming the roof was leaking. It took a moment to realise he had been crying. The painful memories of his past had stirred emotions he had left buried for some time. Rachelle's death had impacted greatly on his career and his very life...A promise he made on that day...One he was duty-bound not to break...

HIs mind began to wander once again as he furtively wrestled with his restraints. He writhed about while he ground them against the bench. It was infuriating and the progress was slow but he could tell he was making progress. Unfortunately, all this time spent alone meant only one thing. The enemy were all stationed elsewhere, most likely with the cyborgs. They could be torturing them or even worse, executing them! Padania was aware of the Social Welfare program by now. Rumours had spread of the little girls with guns. Surely they knew of how many comrades had been slain by those delicate little hands. If so then it wouldn't be out of the question for them to execute them...

Hillshire shook his head and cursed himself for thinking such negative thoughts. He had to cling to the weak light of hope while it was still there. It would guide him to safety...Would help him save Triela. He had to save her! He could not break his promise, not until he was buried six feet under the earth, not until Padania was stopped! He swore he would protect her...He promised a close friend that he would keep her safe, cherish the miraculous survivor...

_Rachelle...You placed your hope with her...And so, I must protect her...I must protect Triela!_

With a grunt of effort Hillshire pulled with all his might, trying to separate his hands. He pried them apart with all the strength he could muster and felt the gratifying snap of the ropes. He loosened his bonds and managed to slip his hands through. When they were free he untied his legs and then his chest.

_Hold out Triela, wherever you are! I promise I will find you and together we will get out of here! I won't leave here until I have you in my arms once again!_

* * *

><p>A middle aged man stood guard around the eastern barracks of the base. One of the prisoners was kept inside as well as some of the supplies they had salvaged from the crash sites. The rest of the weapons were stored in the armoury on the other side of the camp. The other prisoners were all kept in different areas. It was deemed safest to keep them separated, that way even if they escaped they would be stopped before they could regroup.<p>

Alone, the cyborgs were very strong, but as a group they were unstoppable...Well, almost. It seemed military grade, heat-seeking missiles were enough to bring them down.

The Padania agent strolled up and down the wide road outside the three identical buildings. He checked up on the store-house and organised the scattered items that had been dumped there by the other teams on their way through. He then made his way to the next building, the one which held the prisoner. He knocked on the door and waited for a response. He received nothing but silence. That must have meant the bastard was asleep.

Perfect!

He opened the door and took out a combat knife strapped to his waist. The room was dark but he found the light switch easily enough. When the room was illuminated however, he realised that the chair in the centre of the room was empty.

"What the...?" He stepped forward and took out his pistol. He waved the barrel around the room while he searched for the missing prisoner. When had he escaped? How had he not known? Shouldn't there have been some noise or something?

"Hey! I know you're in here! I also know you are unarmed. Come out quietly and without a fuss and maybe I'll let you be. However, if you want trouble, I can give you trouble!" He cocked his gun and scanned the room once again. "I'll give you to the count of three!" he roared. He moved over to a large cupboard opposite the front door and waited.

"One!"

Silence.

"Two!"

Nothing. Only the sound of the guard's increasingly heavy breathing.

"Three!"

The cupboard door was flung open and a shadow enveloped him. The guard spun around on his heels but by then the assailant had already ducked behind him again, wrapping thick rope around his throat. He tried to call out for help but the words were trapped within his constricted throat. He thrashed around and reached for his knife but instead found it hacking into his wrist. The assailant had already taken the knife from him!

"Where are the other prisoners?" The attacker demanded, his voice cold.

The guard just choked and coughed while he fumbled around with his pistol. He turned the barrel around so that the fire-arm was pointing at himself, the he aimed blindly for the attacker. He was unable to fire however as the large steel blade was buried in his back, just under the rib cage. Black splotches appeared in his vision and he sank to the floor. He did not suffer for long.

Hillshire wiped the blade on the man's sleeve, and then relinquished the pistol from his cold dead hands. "You wretched rebels! I will not let you take her away from me! I will find Triela and together...We will bring you down!"

Victor Hillshire burst free from his cage and into the night, unaware that he was being watched. Falcon stroked his silver beard and chuckled menacingly. He peered through the binoculars at the escapee and watched him as he disappeared behind a block of buildings. It was then that he received a call from Sparrow. Supposedly one of the cyborgs had tried to break but at least her little insurrection had been quelled. That just left the handler on the run.

"Sparrow, it seems one of the handlers has escaped. He's headed south towards the hangar. If you are done with the machine, then please deal with him now." He lowered the radio and smirked. "Victor Hillshire...I know where you are headed, but you will not make it there alive."

Falcon raised his radio once again and delivered his orders. This was war...And he was a veteran...

* * *

><p><span>Please review. Any help or advice is always appreciated and your thoughts on the story are important as well, so please tell me what you think of the story so far.<span>


	9. Falsità

_**9:** **Falsità**_

Henrietta sat in a comfortable padded chair amidst a room full of soldiers. Most of them ignored her, or at least tried to, but they stared at her, she could feel their gazes upon her. She let it slide. She was a cyborg; it was always a surprise to those who weren't aware. Besides, these people were going to save her. According to the man with the silver hair they were still searching for her comrades and of those found, they were treating them in the infirmary.

Henrietta had already been to the infirmary. They had taken her here afterwards and it seemed that many of the Col Moschin had gathered in the room. They just stood around the room talking to each other, their combined chatter becoming a mess of unintelligible sound. They all still carried their weapons and they checked their surroundings carefully. Truly, they were the greatest soldiers in the country.

That made Henrietta feel safe. The Padania group would have trouble overcoming both the agency and the Italian Special Forces. Surely they would fall back and give up on their endeavour if they hadn't already. They were powerless...

"Hello there sweetheart," A tall young man squatted down before her so that he was eve-level. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and extended a hand in greeting, "My name's Hawk. It's nice to meet you. I hear you're one of those state of the art cyborgs. Oh, wait, where are my manners? I haven't even asked your name yet."

"Oh...I'm Henrietta..." she replied meekly.

Hawk grinned. "Henrietta. So, those bad guys from Padania have caused quite a mess haven't they? Your friends are in pretty bad shape, but they should all pull through. So how are you feeling?"

"Better..."

"That's good to hear. So...you can go back to your base whenever you feel ready. You work for the uh...Oh what's it called again?"

"The Social Welfare Agency."

"That's right!" he clapped his hands together and rose to his feet. "It's been a long time since I've been there, I can't really remember where it was...Don't suppose you could help me out?"

"It's in Rome." Henrietta explained. "It's a great big building, you couldn't miss it."

"Yeah, I remember now." Hawk patted her shoulder, his grip was painful. "Thanks Henrietta." He squeezed so hard it made her wince. Henrietta moved to stop him but she was slapped full in the face and thrown to the floor. "You've been a real help sweetheart. I'll make sure to tell your friends before we pick 'em off!"

Henrietta's eyes widened. "Huh? Who are you?"

"I told you. My name is Hawk. I'm a member of the Col Moschin. You knew all that already, didn't you? But don't worry. I understand why you thought we were here to help, I really do. But I'm so sorry to disappoint you...We were actually out here to kill you."

"Ah!" Henrietta writhed about and managed to get up into a crouch. Several men discharged their weapons and Henrietta felt the sting of bullets as they burrowed into her flesh. She grit her teeth and made for the window. The soldiers were already moving to cut her off but Henrietta would not let them claim her. She vaulted over one of the shorter men and landed right beside the glass partition. Without a moment's hesitation she slammed her fist against the thick glass, smashing it to pieces.

Shards of broken glass rained around her and she caught one in her bloodied fist. Soldiers advanced upon her, drawing their weapons, taking aim.

"Run all you want Henrietta, but you can't escape. Even if you escape, we can just hunt you down! And even if we can't find you, we've got all your buddies locked up. We could always just play around with them instead!" Hawk waved a hand towards her and roared, "Get her!"

The soldiers surged as one, lunging at her. Henrietta's eyes went blank as she became lost to her killer instincts. She dropped to the floor and rolled under a series of close range shots. She landed at the feet of several troops and lashed out with the shard of broken glass.

One man dropped to his knees as his throat was sliced open. His arterial spray showered the murderous young girl as she methodically slaughtered two more men before launching herself out of the window and into the cold night air.

She landed in a crouch outside and instantly burst into a mad dash for cover. Bullets sailed past her but she managed to evade the worst of them. She banked around one of the barracks and looked around, desperate to catch her breath.

The soldiers would be upon her in no time. They had probably already left the room and were scouring the camp for her. She had to escape, but she did not know where. She remembered the Chief mentioning a safe-house but she forgot where. Besides, her friends were still trapped within this place...Jose was still in here.

She had to find him!

"This way! Follow the trail!" Hawk roared in the distance.

Henrietta glanced down at her feet and realised she had a trail of bright red splotches in the snow around her. She cursed and clambered up onto the roof of the barracks. They wouldn't be able to find her up there, not for a while at least. That allowed her some time to think...Time to regret her foolishness. She had been warned about the Col Moschin. They were suspicious of betraying the government and siding with Padania, and yet she trusted them. She told them what they wanted to hear and now they could do whatever they wanted. They had all the cards now. They had all of their supplies, weapons and even the cyborgs. With all of her comrades in captivity no-one would be able to resist them and they could very well march upon the Agency and destroy it from the inside.

She had failed her mission...She had betrayed everyone...

Jose would never forgive her. He would scold her, hit her, hate her! He would abandon her...She was done for. Was it even worth fighting? If she had lost everything then what use is there in fighting? Maybe it would be better if she just handed herself over to Padania...Jose wouldn't care. No-one would. She was a failure. Useless, obsolete...A waste...

But still, she longed to see Jose, just one last time. Even if it was just a brief glimpse out of the corner of her eye. Even if he wasn't smiling, wasn't even looking, just to see him one last time would mean everything to her...Then maybe...Maybe she could die happy.

The word was foreign to her for much of her life. It was only after spending so much time with her handler that she had realised just what that was. When Jose smiled at her, when he praised her. That made her happy. That made her feel warm inside, as if the sun's radiant warmth was beaming out from within her soul. It made her feel wonderful, all the pain she had gone through prior suddenly vanishing without a trace. Just from a simple smile. Such was the importance of that kind, gentle man to her. Such was his vital role in keeping Henrietta sane, keeping her alive.

And that was why she had to see him one last time. If not to stay, then to at least apologise...

The troops below fanned out and searched the surrounding area. They looked up but Henrietta pressed her body down against the snow-covered roof, sinking into it, becoming one with it. They could not see her like this and so she remained safe for the time being. The light from their torches splayed across her several times, her breath catching in her throat out of fear of being discovered. Thankfully she was well hidden in the veil of night. Safe from the eyes of the Hawk.

The soldiers seemed to become agitated in their search, eager to hunt her down and destroy her. It was at that moment that hawk's radio shrieked with static and a familiar yet distorted voice came through the tinny speaker. Henrietta's superb hearing picked up the scratchy message and she listened in on the words of the one with silver hair, Falcon.

She overheard word of another prisoner breaking out. They were heading towards the South to a hangar. Henrietta could see the great shelter looming in the distance, its immense frame merely an imposing shadow through the snow.

The soldiers below split up, many of them wandering off towards the hangar. The rest remained to search for her. That was only slightly helpful. There may have been less people hunting her...but she still did not know where to find her handler. There were too many too try and interrogate one of them. It seemed the only path she could follow would be the one she was created to follow...The path of bloodshed. She had failed her mission...But there could still be redemption found in the corpses of the enemy.

If she was destined to die, then she would at least take as many of them down with her. That way Jose might be able to escape...

"Spread out! Cover the streets! She will be looking for weapons or shelter!" Hawk roared. "We cannot let her get away!"

The troops indeed spread out, some running off all over the camp. The enemy were spread much thinner now. It was about time she got down from the roof and searched for her handler. She crawled over to the edge of the roof and peered down at two men. One was hawk. The other was just a Padania terrorist in ill-fitting body armour. Hawk moved out away from the building and scanned the fence-line in the distance.

While he was distracted Henrietta dropped down from the roof and landed softly in the snow behind the Padania guard. She quickly rose to her feet and snaked her hands around the man's throat before twisting sharply. He dropped like a stone and created a noticeable thud upon impact.

Hawk spun around with expertly trained reflexes and fired, his bullet only just missing Henrietta's left eye. It grazed the side of her head and put her off balance making it easier for Hawk to take aim again. The muzzle flash would have blinded a normal person but Henrietta's eyes were cybernetically enhanced, allowing her to make it through with just a few blinks. She used the momentum of her swaying body to drop to the ground and waited for another shot to be fired. When Hawk pulled the trigger again, Henrietta rolled to the side and crouched like a frog. She tensed her inhuman muscles and sprang off from her feet, barrelling into Hawk and throwing him to the ground and knocking the gun out of his hands.

The two grappled for a while, Hawk being overpowered. He cursed and gritted his teeth and brought his feet up against the cyborg's chest. He kicked out with all his strength and threw her into the wall of the small hut. She landed in a heap but quickly capitalized, getting back up and charging forward for another round. Hawk traced her movements and stepped aside as the young girl threw a heavy straight punch. As the girl floated past he brought his knee up into her gut and then drove a thunderous double hammer-fist into her spine.

Henrietta hit the ground hard and for a moment she couldn't move.

"Ha!" Hawk spat as he kicked the fallen girl, "You're not so tough without your guns are you? You've got a long way to go to be on par with me!"

"Jose..."

"What?"

"I must..." Henrietta got up onto her hands and knees and coughed violently. "Must...Find Jose!" She lunged, tackling Hawk. She landed on top of him and managed to land a few impossibly powerful punches. Hawk drew a knife from his belt and raked it across her stomach, splitting her flesh and allowing dark blood to spill out over her foe. Henrietta reached out with lightning fast reflexes and caught his hand, preventing him getting another strike with the bladed weapon. It left him with just one fist and he took his chances, throwing a right hook.

Henrietta caught that fist and twisted the elite soldier's arm until it snapped out of place with a jarring crack. Hawk did not scream, but his face contorted in agony. The cybernetic assassin let the useless arm drop and used her one free hand to grasp Hawk's throat. She closed her vice-like grip around his wind-pipe crushing it with ease. Hawk's face went blue in a matter of seconds and then his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Exhausted, Henrietta took the time to recuperate, leaning against the cracked wall of the hut and watching as the gently falling slowly covered hawk's corpse like an icy sheet.

_Jose...I will find you..._

* * *

><p>Jose squatted on a branch high up in a tree on the fringe of the camp. There was a sentry tower just a few metres away. It would be a difficult task reaching it, but it was not impossible. Jose had been scouting the area for a while now. He had heard gunshots nearby and he had heard yelling. Whatever was going on in there, it seemed that the villains weren't having as easy a time as it first seemed. But the cyborgs alone could not defeat an entire military force. Especially without their weapons...<p>

"Jean, we have to move in before it's too late."

"What? I told you, I'm not letting those damned Padania fool get the better of me. I'm not going over that fence until reinforcements arrive!"

"That could take days!" Jose snapped, "Besides, the girls must be putting up a resistance. Why else would there be gunshots?"

Jean's expression was grave, his eyes like burning embers, "They are most likely executing the prisoners."

Jose however, was not convinced. "No, that's not right. During an execution the shots are fired in an organised fashion, not sporadic bursts like that. We have to help them before they are over-run!"

"No. Even if they are alive it would be pointless to march in there expecting to save them. We would just get killed and this mission would be a complete and utter failure-"

"Oh it's already a failure!" Jose roared, "The mission is abandoned. This is survival now! That is all that matters!"

"Well then look after your own sorry ass instead of others." Jean replied snidely. There was no moving him. He was as stubborn as ever. But that meant nothing to Jose.

The younger of the Croce brothers took up Henrietta's FN P90 and strapped it to his back. He stored spare clips in his pockets and loaded his side-arm, a SIG P239. When that was filled he then clipped Triela's bayonet to his thigh.

Jean scowled at him and folded his arms in frustration, "You're really going in there aren't you?" Jose said nothing, just stared deep into his brother's eyes. It was answer enough. Jean rolled his eyes and sat back. "Fine. Get yourself killed. But when you stare death in the face make sure you apologise to Enrica!"

Jose nodded gravely and whispered, "Of course."

The two brothers nodded to one another and shook hands. Then they parted ways, Jose scaling up the tree and Jean resting by its rotten, hollowed out trunk. Jean didn't even bother to watch his brother leap over into the darkness; he just played around with the radio in hopes of contacting the SWA.

Jose moved as far along the branch as he could and studied the gap. It was at least two metres...Quite impossible from the look of it, especially when balancing on a precarious little tree branch. Nonetheless, he braced himself and took a deep breath. He let out a deep sigh and then propelled himself with his feet, leaping out from the cover of the leaves and into the open night air. It chilled him down to the bone, but he had more important things to worry about, such as the sentry tower falling out of reach.

He extended his hands to the railing but fell short of them. Instead he hit the lip of the platform and dropped down a metre and a half to the spiral staircase below. Jose tasted blood and his legs hurt. Still, he pushed himself up to his feet and staggered down the last of the stairs and at long last set foot behind enemy lines.

The real battle had begun...

* * *

><p><span>Please review. I know there aren't many people who read Gunslinger Girl fics and so every reader is very important. Your input is vital and so please tell me what you think. Any advice is most welcome as is whatever is on your mind, just tell me. It will only help us both. <span>


	10. Infiltrazione

**10:** _**Infiltrazione**_

Sorry for the long wait. Here is the next chapter, please read and review.

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><p>Jose squatted in the deep snow and waited, scanning the area for any signs of enemy troops. He could see the light of torches in the distance, intermittently waving about between a row of tiny shacks. He studied in silence the wavering beams of light and sighed.<p>

_Four. There are four of them with torches. They are spread out over quite a distance. The shacks will provide good cover. If I'm careful I may be able to take them._

Ever so slowly Jose flattened himself into the snow and crawled, buried beneath the soft white cover. He resurfaced every so often to check the situation as well as to get a breath of fresh air. He dragged himself through the thick set snow with the pace of a snail, gradually closing in on the shacks.

When he only a few metres away he got up into a crouch and ran up to the wall of the nearest building. The buildings were raised slightly, with a gap of a few feet underneath. He dropped as low as he could and scrambled underneath the one-room shelter. He was so close he could hear their murmuring voices, their curses.

"I can't believe it! How can two of them escape so damn fast?" one of them men asked. He waved his torch around as he spoke. The man beside him held a sub-machine gun in his thickly wrapped hands. Even with all the extra layers he was still shivering. They must not have been one of the Col Moschin, just a couple of grunts.

"Well one of them is heading to the hangar. He won't make it far anyway; Falcon's got the place set up like a fortress. Even those cyborgs wouldn't be able to make in there in one piece!"

"So what about the girl? She's a feisty little thing. You think she'll head there too?"

"Probably. Let 'em go ahead and kill themselves! It's easier for us that way."

"Yeah."

The two laughed, dropping their guard. Jose rolled out from under the shelter and snatched Triela's bayonet. He tightened his grip around the steel handle and rushed over to the two Padania troops. The man with the torch never even knew what hit him as the sharpened blade embedded itself deep into his back, effortlessly drilling through his vest. He let out a strangled yelp and dropped to his knees, writhing about to signal his companion.

The second man quickly took aim but Jose had already reached for his side-arm and fired point-blank into his forehead. The soldier staggered back and crashed into the snow.

The sound of the gunshot rang out in the open air and the roars of the other scouts came from everywhere at once. Jose removed the bayonet from the dead man's back and retreated inside one of the shacks. He placed his pistol back in its holster and unstrapped Henrietta's FN-P90 from his back. He checked to make sure it was loaded and then moved to the window. He forced the creaky old plane of glass up just enough to lean his upper body out and then he sank back inside and waited.

Three groups gathered in the centre, each group consisting of a scout with a torch and two armed guards. While they huddled together out in the open Jose poked the barrel out of the window and squeezed the trigger. The recoil was surprisingly strong and he was pushed back by the force. HE had seen Henrietta handle this weapon without even flinching. He never thought it would hold so much kick to it. Still the wild burst managed to catch two of them at the least. Two unwary men were thrown about to land heavily in the snow. All heads turned and the three teams scattered like ants. Jose quickly leaned out again and fired another stream of cold lead, taking down two more. The grey-white snow in the centre of the street had turned crimson from the mounting corpses.

As soon as he was done Jose ducked back inside the window to escape the hail of return fire from the remaining troops. He waited, listening to the sounds of gunfire, picking his moment. When the thunderous roar died down he leaned outside once more and emptied the clip, tearing through another grunt and ripping his chest open in a vibrant shower of red.

Curses and commands were barked and sounds of footsteps reached Jose's ears. He rose sharply and locked the door before scanning the room. It was mostly empty, just a table and chairs towards the back window. But it was enough. The young agent ran over and flipped the table on its side and pushed it up against the door. When he was done building his little barricade he returned to the window and peered out into the open street.

A bullet sailed right past his head, the air whipping at his face as it soared past. Another smashed the glass above his head, showering him with broken shards. Jose rolled aside and moved over to the opposite window which had already been decimated by gunshots. The final four regrouped and fell back into one of the other shacks opposite. Jose cursed and held his position observing their movements. It was then that a thought suddenly occurred to him.

_They were in groups of three...All of them were in groups of three...But then...There should be another one out there!_

The back window of the shack exploded in a rain of shards and before he could even turn to face the sudden threat, Jose felt the cold, biting pain of a bullet burrowing into his flesh. He grit his teeth and cursed just as another bullet tore through his side.

A great roar escaped him and Jose unleashed a wild spray on the back wall of the shack. The walls were shredded as bullet-holes carved through it. A cry of pain escaped from outside and Jose overheard running footsteps. He snarled and kept his gaze on the back window, forgetting the others.

Then there was a soft crunching in the snow, not just around the back, but from the front too. They were going to storm the cabin!

_Henrietta...I promise...I won't abandon you! _

The wounded agent propped himself up against the wall and leaned outside. He drew his side-arm and dropped the larger weapon on the floor. He used his free hand to press against the wound in his side and curb the coursing flow of blood. He leaned against the wall and glanced outside where two of the Padania grunts were moving to the window.

With a cry of unrelenting fury Jose pulled the trigger and a blinding muzzle flash exploded out from the barrel. His first shot missed both targets, landing in the snow at their feet. The second caught the further soldier in the arm and sent him spinning about before dropping down on one knee.

The closer grunt surged forward and threw himself at the door only to bounce off. As he stumbled back Jose fired again. The bullet missed his head but managed to slice through his throat. Blood bubbled up out of his mouth and the ragged hole in his neck and the grunt collapsed.

The further grunt now dived to one side and glanced off a rampant burst of automatic fire. Jose felt the agonising sting of a bullet colliding with his shoulder and his free hand dropped slack by his side, allowing the wound in his side to spew dark blood out through the gaping hole.

Jose dropped to the floor, landing on his back. His eyes squeezed shut and he listened closely for the sounds of intruders. There were several men at the back of the shack and they were about to climb in when Jose rolled onto his side and lined up a shot. A single head popped up right in his sights and he shot the Padania scum dead, his body dropping back down to the earth where the other men let out startled cries.

_Henrietta...I won't leave you! I will find you!_

A cold piece of steel was pressed against the back of his head. Jose's shoulders trembled and in a fit of rage Jose threw his head back. He caught the assailant in the groin, forcing him to drop his weapon and stumbled backwards. The assailant commanded the others to take him down quick but it was too late.

Several bullets became lodged in his centre mass and the grunt was thrown back out the window from the powerful impact. Jose snatched up the grunt's discarded weapon and trained his sights on the back window again where the final two men were climbing up.

_Henrietta...I cannot die here! Not yet! Not until I've found you!_

The broken young man took notice of the dark silhouettes that blotted out the moonlight in the decimated back wall of the cabin. Before they even reached the window Jose let loose three rounds. Two of them hit their mark, one in the vermin's leg and another to the chest. One body dropped but there was one last soldier left and he was already leaning in through the window, lining up a shot.

Jose scowled at him and lined up a shot of his own. He squeezed the trigger with the last of his strength. The muzzle flash blinded him, the explosive roar deafened him. For a moment he was numb, the wold silent and calm.

Then everything went black...

* * *

><p>Triela stared out the window. She had heard the constant rattling thunder of gunfire for quite some time now. She had no idea what was going on out there, but it seemed it was serious enough to dismiss her guards. They had been split up and sent elsewhere throughout the camp. She was left alone in the cramped little room, tied to a chair. She had been slowly forcing her bonds loose through sheer force. The restraints were thick but she had been pulling her arms apart slowly for some time now and the fibres were starting to break loose.<p>

When at last the ropes snapped and she was free she approached the window, cautious to avoid being spotted. She peered outside and noticed a row of buildings outside. There was a grid of little shacks all of them just big enough to house one room and nothing more, just like her little cell. Past the first few rows she spotted something in the snow, something mangled and stained.

They were corpses. Falling snow obscured them to the point of being unrecognisable mounds of dead flesh but Triela knew they were from Padania. The sight of their bodies brought fresh hope to the young cyborg and she quickly scanned the room for weapons or supplies only to come up short. With no other choice she stepped outside into the frigid breeze and began checking through the other cabins.

Near the centre of the grid there was a larger building, a square structure that stood taller than the shacks as well as spreading out further. There had to be something worth salvaging in there and so she ducked down low and scuttled over to the cracked timber door. The pain was flaking off in the extreme weather and the handle's gloss had worn off revealing rusted patches. It was locked but it was no trouble for a cybernetic soldier to force her way in.

The room was dark but she could make out the lumpy shape of beds lined up against the walls. There were many tables and cupboards along the walls as well. Triela stumbled around and got a closer look at the equipment. She realised she had found the infirmary. Medical equipment littered the tables and cupboards and there were even life support machines beside a few of the gurneys.

All of it was useless to her however. Her flesh was made of grafted synthetic fibres and her musculature was more machine than tissue. Even her organs were mostly cybernetic implants, designed to keep her functioning at optimal efficiency no matter what. A simple roll of bandages would do her no good and the medicines were all useless to her man-made innards.

They were useless to her, but not her handler. Not Hilshire. He had to be out there. He must have been wounded by the crash.

_I have to find him! I have to-_

A loud crash outside made her body stiffen and with inhuman reflexes spun on her heels to come to a grating halt facing the door. She leapt back into the comforting embrace of the shadows and sank into the floor, lying low under a table. She kept her gaze solely on the lone figure approaching from outside.

It had an awkward gait, definitely injured. Its body swayed with each slow, laboured step. The figure limped forward and collapsed into the door, pushing itself up against the frame for support. Its legs were shaking, the knees creaking audibly.

Triela clenched her fists and waited. She would finish off the intruder as soon as the moment came up. She held her breath, a simple task for one with-out true lungs, and waited.

The figure stood there in the hall, breathing heavily. Their breath came in ragged, wheezes like stale air escaping from a slashed tyre. Their body was trembling uncontrollably, the feet sliding out from underneath. The figure dropped against the wall and landed in a heap. The head sagged and the body leaned heavily to one side, inevitably dropping onto its side.

Triela waited a little longer before crawling out from the darkness. She crawled right up to the figure and got a good look of his face.

It was then that she screamed, a scream unbefitting of a machine, evidence of the child she once was. All of her programming and training were abandoned in an instant as she scrambled backwards and cried out a high shrieking note of pure fear. She laid a hand over her gaping mouth and stared at the wounded man.

_J-Jose? What happened to him? I-Is he..._

"Jose?" she whimpered, leaning over him. She fumbled around for the light-switch and as the dull light illuminated the room she began checking him for wounds.

His torso was a mess of blood and torn flesh. Dried congealing puddles formed thick encrusted stains across his chest, his uniform glued to him by the fluids draining from the gaping wounds. His left arm was slack, the limb twisted beneath him. Triela had to roll the wounded agent on his side to free it. When she did she found trails of dried crimson flowing down to his palms and coating his fingers. The skin around his shoulder had been shredded by a bullet, a deep trench carved through the flesh and grated against bone.

His chest was rising and falling but barely. He was alive for now, but he was a mere mortal. There were no special machines implanted inside him. There was no laboratory for quick repairs. He was going to die unless he received treatment.

For any other girl her age, lifting Jose would have been quite difficult but Triela hefted the limp body almost effortlessly. She gently dropped him down on a bed and studied the life support machine. There were all manner of tubes and wires jutting out like ghostly tendrils. She had no idea what they were for but she knew they were important.

There wasn't enough time to waste.

Triela searched through the equipment and tools, searching for something, anything she could use to save his life. Jose was alive. For so long she had feared they were all dead, but seeing him had brought a brief glimmer of hope.

Surely the others were alive as well.

She had to find them...She had to save them...

But first, she had to deal with Jose.


	11. Raggruppare

11. _**Raggruppare**_

The taste of iron was bitter. It lingered in the back of his throat as he choked on the blood pooling in his mouth. He turned over on his side and let the thick red mess spill out onto the floor. Cold hands held his head steady and gently laid it down beside the small growing pool of blood-flecked saliva.

The hands that ran across his body, checking for a pulse, checking his heart-rate...They were so small...

Like a child's...

"Henrietta?"

The word stung as it scraped out of his parched throat, but a sense of relief flooded over him as soon as it was uttered. Simply saying the name aloud brought something warm to his heart, but when he didn't hear her voice respond his spine went rigid.

"I'm sorry..." another voice replied. It too was ladled with a youthful timbre, but her voice was too deep to be Henrietta's and the faint accent was different.

The girl leaned into his field of vision, albeit blurred. Long trails of golden blonde spilled alongside her thin, yet masculine frame. Her image was a familiar one, yet he struggled to find the name to match the face. He let out an irate groan and closed his eyes as something sharp bit into his arm. The pain was all too familiar, the very same sensations gnawing away at him from all sides. His arm, his shoulder, his chest. Everything hurt.

"I'm sorry if it stings a little...You lost a lot of blood so...I think this is right."

The girl didn't sound at all confident, but all the same something thin writhed about and slithered up the length of his arm, burrowing under his flesh. He grit his teeth and tried to sit up, but he made it no further than lifting his chin before slumping back down on the ground.

"Try not to move. You need to rest for a while. You aren't in any condition to escape right now."

He smiled, if only a little and reached out to grab the girl by her slender wrist. He gripped his weathered hand around her soft skin and squeezed. She placed her other hand over his own and seemed to infuse her warmth into his chilled body.

"Thank you..." he croaked.

She smiled at that and the slightest hint of a chuckle escaped her. "There's no need to thank me Senor Jose! I'm just glad you're alive."

That's right! Memories flooded back, or perhaps it was merely a nightmare. A Hellish reality where children are bred to fight the threats posed against their fragile nation. A terrible dream of children sent into battle after battle, stone-faced assassins in frilly dresses and summer clothes. Baby-faced killers with a flower in one hand and a gun in the other. Frail young things with hands painted blood.

Jose let out a deep sigh, knowing full well it was no dream.

He remembered the mission, the chopper crash, infiltrating the military base, making his last stand...Now here he was in a dimly lit room with one of the cyborgs, not his own.

"Triela...Where are we?"

"In the infirmary," so she said whilst bandaging the bullet wound in his shoulder. "You stumbled in here and collapsed after fighting off the guards. It's lucky I found you too, or you could have already been dead."

"Where are the others?"

Triela shrugged, "I don't know. I was tied up in one of the cabins near here. I guess they are held somewhere else. I already checked the other cabins around here and they were empty. My guess is they isolated us cyborgs to make sure we can't regroup."

"They planned one step ahead of our every move." Jose cursed.

"But hey, it's not all bad!" Triela chirped, a thin smile creasing her pale lips. "We're together now! Maybe the others have made contact too?"

Jose stared at the girl, trapped behind enemy lines, outgunned at least ten-to-one and separated from her comrades and yet she could still smile as if everything was fine. Her innocent smile was infectious and Jose couldn't help but return the gesture. It was all he could manage to do for the girl who had saved his life. Moreover, she had instilled fresh hope in their dire situation.

If Triela was unharmed, then surely...

_Henrietta...I promise you...I _will _find you!_

* * *

><p>Pain. The concept was not entirely foreign to her. No, she knew it quite well. She had grown accustomed to it regardless of the conditioning. Regardless of her machinated frame, the pain would always linger. Perhaps it was simply her body convincing itself that injuries cause pain, even if they are but wounds upon a mannequin. Perhaps she needed to hold onto the feeling to remind herself she was still alive?<p>

No matter the reason, it crippled her, leaving the poor abandoned child in the middle of the barren snow. The fluffy white flakes were cold against her cheek as she slowly rolled onto her side, eyes cast dazedly upon the distant light of torches. She could hear yelling in the distance too.

Were they friends?

No, she would not fall for such a ruse anymore. Henrietta was alone in this hell and that was for certain. Rescue had not arrived and if the Col Moschin had found anyone they would have been executed much like the fate she had barely managed to escape not long before.

Her friends, her comrade, her handler...Her love...

All gone...

Fresh tears fell upon the snow, rolling down cheeks discoloured by the frigid cold. Between her shallow breaths of icy air she uttered fractured sobs sounding as if she were choking. Each breath rattled out of her, sending a chilled mist from her lips. She watched on, fascinated.

Oddly enough, a fragment of laughter escaped her. Exhausted, Henrietta lay collapsed in the snow, bleeding out to stain the pearly white ground a grisly shade of death. The bullet wounds continued to ooze blood making her dizzy. Unable to move and faced with impending doom and yet Henrietta had found herself laughing.

It made no sense, but it eased the pain somewhat. It brought a brief semblance of a smile and the faintest warmth in what remained of her heart.

To die smiling seemed an odd concept to Henrietta, but she succumbed to the desire to lie there in peace and await her inevitable end.

She watched the snowflakes drift gently down around her, transfixed on the beauty of nature which remained unmarred even by the nightmares endured in this place.

The footsteps caught her attention and her eyes narrowed. They had found her. A final stand would have been honourable, but she was so very tired and weak. Her battle with Hawk had drained much of her strength. So drained was her body, she could barely even lift her head to catch sight of her executioner.

The footsteps were getting louder and more frequent. They were running, boots crunching through thick snowfall. She stared at her hands gone blue and cradled the mysterious white fluff, marvelling as if for the first time at the wonders of snow.

Henrietta thought over her childhood, playing with guns instead of toys. Climbing burning buildings instead of the trees in the woods. Only now did she lament the lost days of her misspent youth. She loved her handler and obeyed his every word, but with Jose gone, she wanted simply to play like a normal girl her age, if only until the last breath was stolen from her lips.

The footsteps came to a stop and shadows draped over her in a formless blanket. A figure towered over her, slowly stooping down. As they neared, Henrietta caught a glimpse of a face she once knew.

"Henrietta? Dear god what happened?!"

A hand curled around behind her head and lifted her into a seated position. The man sat in the snow and cradled her limp form, wrapping his jacket around her stiff shoulders.

"Henrietta, are you alright? Can you stand?"

She forced a smile. She could not let the handlers down. "Sure. Thank you Mr Hilshire."

With his guidance she half rose, only to fall back down in a whirlwind of pained cries.

"You've lost a lot of blood. We had better get you inside and seal up those wounds before it gets any worse. Here, lean on my shoulder." Hilshire offered his shoulder and slung the young girl across his back while he stole across the snowfields towards the row of buildings in the distance. He carefully trained his gun on the space before them, finally coming across the corpse of one of the Col Moschin. His throat was crushed inwards, a sickening black bruise spreading across like a collar. His gaping jaw had filled with snow, as were the wide staring eyes covered in film of frost.

"I... I did good...didn't I?"

Henrietta felt Hillshire's shudder through her skin, the sensation tickling just vaguely.

"You? You did this?"

The other corpses fanned out around the barracks. Trails of blood, half buried, stretched out from the ruins. Hilshire stared at the violent scene around him and shuddered again. Despite the tremor he brushed a hand through Henrietta's hair.

"You fought well, Henrietta. Now you can rest."

They made their way inside and Hilshire laid his charge down on a bed while he searched for medical supplies. The storehouse adjoining the barracks held shelves full of equipment which he meticulously selected and gathered in a large rucksack. He then moved to a freezer towards the back and dumped several bottles of water in the bag.

Having successfully raided their stores he returned to the living quarters where Henrietta had managed to sit up in her bed to stare out the window towards the pale moon. A mournful smile settled upon her petite features.

"The sky...It is beautiful..."

Hilshire leaned forward to peer outside where vibrant flashes of colour danced across the sky. Bright ribbons of green rolled over them and stretched on toward the horizon. Their faint glow was mystifying and utterly entrancing. Hilshire couldn't help but smile.

"Those are the Northern Lights. They are a rare sight, especially from here."

"Pretty..."

Hilshire nodded and stroked back the loose strands of Henrietta's hair that had been covering her eyes.

"The Native Americans called them the Dance of the Spirits. All across Europe it was seen as a sign from God. For hundreds of years those lights have been worshipped. I can understand why. They truly are magnificent."

Henrietta turned to the handler and frowned, "What do you think God is trying to say?" Her voice was laden with innocence, however the question cut deep. Hilshire hesitated before glancing back up to the sky.

"I don't know, Henrietta."

The injured child nodded as though she had reached a better understanding from his underwhelming answer. With a cocked head she asked, "Do you believe in God Mr Hilshire?"

Once again he hesitated, gripping the windowsill tighter as he fought to look away. "I did, once. Not anymore. There are too many questions I haven't found the answers for. Besides..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "What kind of God would allow this? If there ever was a God, he has long since abandoned us. But we are no better...We've betrayed our children all the same..."

"Mr Hilshire?" Henrietta leaned forward with great effort and pain. She was gently pushed back against the backrest by her comrade and faced with a sad smile.

"I may not hear his voice or feel his touch...But if God were speaking to us right now, I can only imagine he would be saying this..." Hilshire closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Do not give up hope."

Together they watched aurora in silent harmony.


End file.
